


One Year to Rule Them All

by DeepLittleSOB



Series: Lizzy-verse [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Civilian Dean, Demons, Depression, Drinking, F/M, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Hell, Hunters & Hunting, Loss, Lucifer's Cage, Sex, Soulless Sam Winchester, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 15:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 49
Words: 218,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3574895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepLittleSOB/pseuds/DeepLittleSOB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam took to dive and is locked away for eternity in Lucifer's Cage... but the world never ended.  Life keeps moving forwards and now everyone that ever knew Sam needs to figure out how exactly they move forward too.  </p><p>From Lizzy and Dean's forced domesticity to Soulless Sam roaming the country doing only God knows what to Sam stuck with Lucifer and the everyday struggle that presents, it's all here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. May 25th

**Author's Note:**

> This is the twelfth story in my series. It will cover the entire year and a half-long span of time that Sam spent in the Cage. We will see life from all perspectives, including Sam in the Cage, so be aware.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own or have the rights to anything of the Supernatural universe. I'm just playing in their sandbox.

* * *

"You need to leave me the fuck alone…  _now_ ," Dean spits out, his tone filled with an amount of hatred that just makes her scared and so sad it hurts. He doesn't ever talk to her like that.  _Never_. But things have drastically changed in their lives recently and she understands. It hurts, but she understands.

"I'm just trying to help," Lizzy calmly reminds him as she stands in the doorway of their bedroom looking at him lying in bed, his back to her as he's curled up on his side facing the opposite wall. She silently reminds herself that she loves this man very much and continues to deal with the brute force that is Dean in mourning.

"Lizzy, you're not helping. You're being fucking annoying," Dean explains as he refuses to look at her. She's trying to make him do things that he just doesn't want to do. He wants to lie in bed, drink, and try to forget. That's it. Everything else she attempts to make him do she can just shove right up her ass because he's not doing it. "Just stop."

"How do expect me to do that?" Lizzy quietly challenges him, her side leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Easy," he responds harshly, pulling the comforter tightly up to his neck. "You back the fuck off and leave me alone. I don't need the mothering." I need my brother back, he thinks to himself.

"I'm not mothering you, Dean," she returns, her tone almost defeated. Three days of anger and acidic responses to her efforts at helping him. Three days of her own silent suffering with no one to turn to. Bobby isn't even answering his phone since Sam jumped into the cage, needing the time away from hunting to regroup. She gets it but that left her with no one to talk to. She continues to suffer silently while Dean so clearly needs her but keeps refusing her.

"Sure as hell feels like it."

"I'm trying to be there for you."

"Well don't," he punches out, eyes closed as he refuses to listen to his own bitter and harmful tone that he uses with her. "I don't need you."

The thick silence that develops between the two of them nearly suffocates Lizzy. Such awful words he uses. As she tries her best to mentally remind herself that he's devastated and needs time, she finds herself breaking down quickly.

"Don't say that," Lizzy quietly asks of him. "Because I know that you don't mean that."

"Try me."

She breaths deep and silently lets the mantra she's used several times already start a loop in her head.

_He doesn't really mean it. He doesn't really mean it. He doesn't really mean it…_

"Stop expecting me to be ok," Dean tells her while facing the wall. "I can't be. I've lost everything. I've lost my entire fucking family."

"No you didn't," Lizzy kindly tells him while walking forward a couple steps, wanting to physically do something to help him but not knowing what, if anything, he'd accept right now. "You still have me. I'm right here."

"So what?" Dean brushes off, his words driving a knife into her heart. "You're only here because you have to be."

The pain his words deliver is excruciating. They both know she was made for him in the most literal sense, having had angels mold and shape her. But they both also know that their love is something huge, something that even the angels are surprised by, and they'd never leave the other wanting or needing anything because of that love. It's real what they have and right now Dean tries to say it isn't.

Freezing in her place, knowing she's about to cry and not wanting to do that in front of him right now, she knows she has to give up and leave.

"Alright then," her voice cracks, giving her away completely. "I'm taking a shower… just, just in case you suddenly realize that you  _do_  need me… that's where I'll be."

Making her way quickly down the hallway before she loses it in front of him (like he needs the added sorrow right now), she holes up in the bathroom. She turns on the water and as the steam fills the room she stands at the sink, gripping the edge of it and looking at herself in the mirror. Three restless nights have taken their toll on her. She's afraid to let Dean sleep through the night without someone to watch over him. With the amount that he's been drinking she doesn't assume he will make it through the night without choking on his own vomit or just plain stopping breathing. She even contemplated watering down the booze in the house so that he couldn't give himself alcohol poisoning but she knows he'd figure it out immediately and it wasn't worth the added fire. Watching him nearly twenty-four hours a day and only sleeping when he passes out during the day has left her exhausted. She's barely eaten, which is more than Dean can say, and her emotions are destroying her from the inside out.

As she undresses she begins thinking about Sam, where he is, and what's happening to him right now. Her brain lets itself travel to this ugly place several times a day no matter how hard she tries to block it. The thoughts alone horrify her and she knows that her own imagination isn't nearly creative enough to come up with the terror he's actually going through. She shakes her head to rid her mind of the train of thought. Thinking like that will only get her where Dean is right now… and one of them has to hold their shit together. That has to be her right now.

Stepping under the hot spray of the shower, she sighs when the heated water warms her tired, taxed body. After everything, she knew that Dean would need time, would need love and support, and completely expected that he'd be difficult to handle. Hell, he's difficult enough as it is on an average day. While experiencing the loss of his Sammy, his world, he's been even worse than she had imagined. Sure, he drinks and doesn't eat, he's angry and sad and frustrated, he doesn't sleep unless he's blacked out from drinking… all things she was ready for. But she never saw the mean side of Dean coming.

They've been together on a daily basis for two years almost nonstop. In all that time of close quarters and constant contact, he's never said a single thing to her that was intentionally hurtful. Whenever he speaks of her or of them it's always positive, always hopeful and loving. These past few days… she doesn't know who the stranger in her apartment is anymore. Dean has aimed for the jugular with every few and far between sentences he's said to her. She asks him to eat, he tells her to fuck off. She suggests he's had enough to drink for the day and he says she's a bitch that needs to mind her own business. She mentions he needs to try and sleep, he tells her he doesn't need her.

He's lucky she knows how full of shit he is.

Thinking through everything and standing under the water in her own world that doesn't have Dean in it, twenty minutes later she turns off the shower. With a sad sigh she grabs her towel, dries off, and gets mentally prepared for whatever verbal insult he's about to hurl at her next. Towel wrapped around her body, she steps out and heads to leave.

"Shit," she hushes out when she catches the unexpected sight of Dean sitting on the closed toilet, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. "Dean?"

No answer, he stays there.

"Baby," she starts, kneeling on the tiled floor between his knees and looking under his bowed head. "What's happening?" She doesn't ask what's wrong after he scolded her for not knowing when she asked yesterday. What else could she think was wrong? His brother is in hell! That's what's wrong!?

No answer.

"Just tell me what you need," she pleads with him, never knowing what to say or do with him in this state. She's been wrong with every guess she's taken so far.

Dean shakes his head no at the same time as she hears him sniffle.

"Whatever it is you need, I'll do it. You know that," Lizzy attempts one more time.

This time, not a word spoken, he does let her know. Briefly looking up to her and meeting her eyes, his own red and his chin quivering, he swiftly grabs her. He harshly brings her into him, squeezing his arms around her so tightly it nearly hurt. Lizzy scrambles to get her arms around his neck and she holds on hard, a little shocked at the action. After the first night when they got back, Dean's all but avoided all physical contact with her. He doesn't hug her, hold her hand, he's even managed to not once brush against her while passing in the hall or sitting next to one another. And kiss her? No way. It's been the coldest three days of her life.

As she hugs him back, Lizzy lets a few tears of relief fall from her eyes. She's the opposite of how Dean is in this situation. She craves contact and love and warmth. She wants to talk and be held. She wants him to help her too but she knows he can't. Lizzy is the rock right now so she takes this moment for all it is before it disappears.

They don't speak. They barely move. Dean just needed this so badly.

What he really wants is to disappear completely. Falling off the face of the Earth sounded pretty damn good right about now. So did switching with Sam. Both things he knew were impossible. So instead he hides in his whiskey bottle and his pent up anger. Nothing feels right anymore… almost nothing. This felt right still. Lizzy always felt right. But the second he allows himself to run to her the guilt sets in.

Dean still has this. He has someone to help him. Sam's alone. He has love in his life. Sam doesn't. He has a woman showing him constant mercy and concern, even if he hasn't returned it. Sam gets a huge helping of whatever could possibly be considered worse than Hell every second of every day. How is that fair? How it is ok for him to have this life and Sam to have his horrific fate?

It's too much. He snaps.

Swiftly pushing her away from him, Dean stands up and walks off. The very sudden change takes Lizzy way off guard. Soon she can hear the bedroom door slam shut and she's left once again to guess what the fuck she's supposed to do. At a complete loss, Lizzy does the one thing she can do right this second.

She sits onto the cold floor Indian-style and she cries.

Alone.

* * *

Alone.

He's seen a lot already in the short couple of years or so he's been down there. And a couple of years is just Sam's best guess. He never tried to keep track of the actual number of days. Eternity is forever and when you're facing torture forever the concept of time suddenly seems to lose all meaning or importance.

This has become one of his least favorite tortures. Sure, the burning hurts like nothing else. So does the skinning, the stabbing, the disemboweling, and all the other physical attacks Lucifer likes doling out on Sam, using a corporeal form of the hunter to do what he must to make Sam scream until his lungs give out and his throat is on fire. But the physical stuff is child's play in the long run. Being a hunter for his whole life has left Sam not afraid of tangible forms of agony. He can handle that and down in the cage being able to handle something is the equivalent of taking a day off at the beach.

It's the mental stuff, the emotional assaults that always did their worst on him. Sam Winchester was nearly born a head case. His life, his loss of his mother before he could remember her and his upbringing with an absent and militant father sculpted Sam into the mess he is deep down in his soul. The little comfort he was able to sap from Dean through his formative years was all he had to base his emotional maturity on. Somehow he came out of it alright, not good but alright. And always craving more of what he never got.

Somehow, after being in Sam's head for a short time before going right back into the cage, Lucifer crawled right up into his melon and figured him right out. The devil knows what makes Sam tick.

After not so long Sam started to see a pattern. Luci liked to hand out physical pain, scratch that, he loved it. It was a release for him and since he was screwed out of his whole Apocalyptic role by one single, stubborn, strong willed human, the former angel sure found complete release through hammering Sam however he could creatively manage. And he was a creative one. With no actual, concrete rules to their world anymore Lucifer was free to get as intense, horrid, and just plain awful as he could imagine.

A few days to a few months of constant pain and blood and physical dismantling, Lucifer would take some time off. This is when the mental torture would start. This is when the worst of the worst would start.

Now Sam is locked away. Where, he doesn't know. It's pitch black, completely silent, and empty. And to make matters worse, the devil never let him have his body for this. It was just his mind, his soul, his separated being. He can't move, can't yell, can't do anything. He has no eyes, no limbs, no voice, nothing… it's just his thoughts and to Sam there is nothing worse than just having his thoughts.

Every time this has happened his mind started with memories. It's a different one every time. And what's worse, within this odd, black reality he's able to replay his memories as if they're actually happening. He can smell things, see them, hear them… even feel the physical and emotional sensations of them all until…

Well, he tries not to think about how his memories always end. He knows Lucifer tucks Sam away into this vast nothing so that he'll think about a memory just so Satan can destroy it horrifically for him every time. Instead he tries to take what little comfort he can in the fleeting moment.

" _Alright, dude," Dean says to Sam as he tosses his jacket at him. "Let's go."_

_Catching his outerwear, Sam pauses for a minute before the bright smile creeps across his face. He remembers this. It's his ninth birthday. Dad didn't make it back and it wasn't much of a surprise. He had been prepared for mac and cheese from a blue box for dinner, maybe a new book if Dean had gotten the chance to go out and get him one (paying or stealing he never let Sam know… just depended on their cash on hand at the moment), and then staying up late since it was one of the few luxuries Dean could actually afford for Sam in the situation._

" _Where are we going?" Sam asks with a bright face, even though he already knows the answer from memory._

" _We're getting the hell outta here for a few hours," Dean explains as he grabs the motel room key. "We're not sitting in this room for your birthday."_

" _Ok, but dad said…"_

" _I don't care what dad said," Dean tells him, some anger and also a little hesitant fear in his voice as he says it. He sighs. "We'll be ok. I promise." He then holds out a decent sized silver knife to make sure Sam sees it as he tucks it away into his jeans until it's hidden._

" _I don't want to get in trouble, Dean," Sam warns. Incurring the wrath of John Winchester was never fun._

" _You're not gonna get in trouble," Dean assures as he walks over to drop a hand on his little brother's shoulder. "We'll be gone for only an hour, two tops."_

_Somehow, even back then when Dean was only thirteen years old, he had a way of making Sam feel safe and like everything would be fine._

" _Ok," Sam smiles, excited to leave their shitty temp-home for something other than school._

" _So what do you say… burgers or pizza?" This is where Dean's face lights up. Sam laughs a bit at that._

" _Pizza," he says, knowing that at a pizza joint he could get something different than the usual grease fest that Dean gets them. It was his birthday after all and if he wanted a sandwich, he was getting a sandwich._

" _Whatever you want Sammy. It's your day, right?" Dean says to him as he opens the door for them to leave._

" _Right."_

_Sam remembers how that night went. They went to grab dinner at a hole in the wall called Tony's down the street. He had a chicken club and Dean got a small pepperoni and sausage pizza that he nearly ate all on his lonesome. They then went across the street to an arcade. He didn't know how at the time, but Dean had managed to scrape together ten bucks on top of the money he used for dinner. The second they got there he dumped a pile of quarters into Sam's jacket pocket and told him to have at it._

_And did he ever. He ran from game to game, never settling on one. He wanted to do everything and be a normal kid so badly that his excitement took over. And there were just too many games to choose from. About a half hour into the night Sam had realized that Dean never played a single game the whole time. He gave over every quarter he had for his brother to use._

" _Dean! Come here!" Sam yells to his older brother that is sitting on a fake motorcycle that's a part of a racing game, keeping a look out for anything off and watching Sam have fun. "I'm gonna kick your butt!" he remembers clearly declaring while standing in front of a hunting game._

" _Aw, Sammy," Dean starts to deny his brother. "You don't want to play me on that one."_

" _Why not?"_

" _Because when I kick your ass and make you feel like a loser on your own birthday I'm gonna feel bad."_

_Sam rolls his eyes. "Whatever, Dean. I've been practicing. I'm really good now."_

" _Not as good as me kid," Dean says cockily right back. "Besides, those are your quarters. You don't have to spend them on me."_

" _But I want to," Sam shrugs. He did. He wanted to share his fun with the one person who cared enough to do something for his birthday._

" _Fine," Dean finally gave in as he picks up the bright orange game rifle. "But don't come crying to me when you lose."_

" _And don't get all angry and threaten to beat my ass when I kick yours." Sam smiles wide with his words. It was rare that he'd speak like that, like Dean did._

" _Big words," Dean nods with impression while he aims at the screen as Sam drops some quarters into the game. "Let's see if you're a big enough man to back it up."_

" _I'm nine now," Sam says with an air of confidence and he remembers clearly hearing Dean laugh a little at this._

_They used the last of their quarters on the shooting game, Dean winning most games but Sam beating him on the last one. To this day Sam's pretty sure Dean let him win but it's fine. It was a nice gesture._

" _So, you have fun?" Dean asks, his arm around Sam's shoulders as they walk back to their humble lodgings._

" _Yeah," Sam says, looking up at his big brother and feeling very grateful to have him suddenly. "Thanks, Dean."_

" _No problem," Dean answer back and then immediately stops short when he looks ahead. His face drops instantly. "Shit."_

_In front of their motel door was the Impala. Their dad had gotten back while they were out._

" _I though he wasn't coming back until tomorrow," Sam asks up to his big brother with certain worry and fear._

" _That's what he told me last night when he called," Dean tells him._

" _What do we do?" Sam wonders quickly. "He's gonna kill us."_

" _No he's not," Dean assures as he turns to look at Sam. "I won't let him. This was my idea anyways."_

" _But you were just being nice…"_

" _Still went against orders. You didn't do anything wrong, Sammy. You hear me?"_

_Sam nods his head once to indicate that he did._

" _OK. Just follow me and don't say much. Think you can do that for me?"_

_Sam nods again. Out of the two of them Dean always knew how to get through to their father. He knew him better and for whatever reason Sam never could back down from the man. His mouth and independent nature always got him into huge trouble._

_The walk the rest of the way up the street is silent and once they reach the door Dean sighs to himself before entering the room._

" _Where the hell have you been!?" John's voice booms out as he stands up from his bed the second they're in sight._

" _I'm sorry, sir," Dean immediately says as he shuts and locks the door behind them. "I didn't want Sam's birthday to go by without any fun. I took him for pizza and we went to the arcade."_

" _I told you not to leave!" John yells as he steps forward towards them, Dean stepping in front of Sam as he does. "Something was killing people in this town! You could have been hurt!"_

" _I know. And it was my idea to leave, not Sam's," Dean falls on the sword. "I told him it was ok to go."_

_Sam remembers feeling guilty immediately with Dean's words. Sam knew they weren't supposed to go out and if he really didn't want to go out he wouldn't have. Dean was about to take the blame for both of them just to keep his brother safe from their dad's anger on his birthday._

" _Dean, you know what's out there…" John starts._

" _I do, and that's why I left prepared," Dean quickly rebuts, taking out his silver knife to prove that he didn't leave unprepared._

_John gets up and stands in front of his pigheaded but usually rule abiding teen son. He takes the knife from him and holds it._

" _Well, at least you weren't running around naked," John calms down a bit. "And it_ is _Sam's birthday."_

_Sam smiles as he recalls how this night ended. His dad came home early to surprise them. He brought a cake and a hard covered copy of The Hobbit that Sam had been dying to get his hands on. He always used to take the book out of the libraries of wherever they'd currently be, but then he'd have to remember where he was in the story, return the book when they moved on, and then find the next local library to take a different copy out and figure out the page he was last on. He loved this book. Had it for years until they had to ditch town when he was fifteen and he left it behind in the rush._

_He remembers this being one of the rare times their father found it acceptable for him to keep on the road with them._

" _I'm sorry, Dad," Dean says, truly meaning it._

" _Me too son," John responds, staring oddly at Dean for a moment before twirling the knife in his hand once and then plunging it hard into Dean's chest._

" _No!" Sam shouts. This isn't supposed to happen! This isn't right!_

_John leans down close to Dean, his eye locking onto his sons and the panic washes over the boy's face._

" _Dad?" Dean barely gets out as he grasps his hands over his dad's fingers still clutching the knife._

" _I'm sorry that I let my son turn out to be so pathetic," John keeps taunting as he turns the blade, making the adolescent Dean scream. "So weak."_

" _Stop it!" Sam panics as he forces his way between John and Dean. He pushes his father as hard as he can, making the man somehow step back a bit. Dean collapses to the floor in a heap as his voice whimpers out with pain and fear. Sam dives onto the floor next to him, pulling the knife from his chest. "Dean!"_

" _Sammy." His weak voice calls out to his younger brother. He looks up to Sam but before he can say anything Sam is airborne._

_He hits the far wall of the motel room with brute force, suddenly getting pinned in place by an invisible force._

" _Hang out a bit, hm?" John's voice says to him. He turns to face Sam and his eyes roll up into his head until there's nothing but blank white._

" _Alistair," Sam says with recognition as his small body struggles to move._

" _Good on you, kiddo," he smirks with John's face. "Relax, would you? You're not getting down until I want you to."_

" _Let them go!" Sam shouts, the horror coating his young voice._

" _Hm, I don't really think I'll be doing that for you," Alistair says in a snarl as he looks back to Dean on the floor as he's curled up and clutching his chest atop a growing pool of blood… so much blood. The sounds of his labored breathing and groans of sheer agony killing Sam from the inside out. "I want you to see what I should have done before I let this pathetic, self-hating waste of space try and torture me. My grasshopper so very much disappointed me."_

" _NO!" Sam screams out but it's no use. The next horrifying hour, or hours as it seems, consists of Sam watching the worst possible thing his brain could ever conjure. He is helpless and forced to view everything Alistair does to his brother, things so horrible he can't bear to let his brain even process it all. Things he was never sadistic enough to ever create on his own._

_When it was all said and done, when there was nothing recognizable left of his own brother but a bloody pile on the floor, Alistair turns John's body around to face Sam with a smile._

" _Been waiting to do that for years," he says with pure glee while wiping a smudge of Dean's blood off his cheek with his sleeve._

_Sam has no response. He just lets the last of his tears make their slow decent down his face filled with ire. Of all the things he's seen, felt, experienced down in the cage, this was by far the most daunting. His memories, one by one, are going to get picked off and changed, turned ugly and cruel instead of being the few bright spots he had left._

_Alistair steps right up in front of Sam, their noses just a few inches away from each other. "You know Sam," he starts and Sam watches as the face of his father transforms into that of Nick, the meatsuit he knows as Lucifer._

"I think I'm actually starting to have some fun with you."

"Go fuck yourself," Sam spits back in a low, yet slightly worn, tone. He's back to his adult form and once more made corporeal. He's in his own body which means he knows what comes next.

"Nah, I prefer to fuck  _you_ , Sam," Lucifer smiles. "Well, fuck you over at least. Unless you're into that sort of thing..." Nick just stares at Sam with a suspicious smirk. "I always did think you were a little fruity. Thought maybe you and Dean had a thing going on for a while there. Long hours together, no one else ever around…"

Sam clenches his jaw and says nothing. He knows now that the more he says the more Lucifer has to work with. It's better to stay quiet.

"Ah, damn. I was wrong," Lucifer laments. "And here I was thinking I was onto something. Oh well."

As Sam feels the pain start, this time from deep within as Lucifer reaches his hand straight into his gut, he barely flinches. His tormenter looks at him with an odd expression.

"Nothing? No screams or swears or begging for your big brother to save you?" he asks with shock.

Sam keeps a straight determined face. After seeing Dean get pulled apart like that right in front of him nothing could hurt more than that.

"Guess I'll have to turn up the heat then, huh?" Lucifer smirks and the new level of physical pain Sam yet to feel hits him like a freight train.

As Sam scream out in sheer agony, Lucifer laughs and finds some form of delight within his cage walls.

* * *

 


	2. June 2nd-3rd

* * *

Day eight and it isn't much better than the first seven. Dean's still on a rampage.

From the kitchen where Lizzy waits for her coffee to be done, the bags under her eyes dark and ever present, she hears the destructive smash followed by the clattering of small pieces on the hardwood flooring of the living room. She squeezes her eyes shut tightly and takes a deep breath to prepare herself. Dean had been quiet this whole morning but she can tell it's all about to go to shit like usual.

She makes her way down the hall and when she walks into the living room she finds Sam's laptop shattered and strewn across the floor. Parts and random keys are everywhere and Dean is taking down a huge gulp of whiskey from his seat on the couch as if he didn't do anything at all.

"Why?" Lizzy has to ask from the doorway, not entering the room just yet. The air is thick and angry in there and, to be honest, she's a little fearful of him. His volatile nature has kept her on her toes.

"He's not gonna be using it anymore," Dean excuses away while pouring another full glass of liquor straight up, a bottle always in its place right next to him on the coffee table every day.

"And he's not gonna be cleaning it up either," Lizzy states. "I am."

Dean shrugs and sits back on the couch, pulling down another large sip and ignoring her.

Lizzy sighs with her sadness. She can't get through to him and he clearly has no motivation to offer any help to her. So for yet another day she sucks it up, tries her best to ignore her own pain, and takes care of her husband as much as he'll let her.

She leaves the room, returning with the trash can, a broom, and a dustpan from the kitchen and begins to clean everything up as Dean sits there, not looking at her. He stares at the TV but doesn't see or hear anything on it. He's too angry to.

That was Sam's laptop, his one favorite item, and he was never going to use it again. When they got back to Lizzy's a week ago they unpacked the Impala and everything has been sitting in the corner of the living room ever since. They couldn't find the motivation to deal with what to do with Sam clothes, possession, and weapons of choice so everything sits unused in the corner. Today, while looking over at the heap, Sam's laptop taunted Dean relentlessly as it peeked out from its laptop bag. It just glared at him, reminding him that Sam's gone and he's never going to fire the damn thing up ever again. Dean couldn't handle that so he smashed away that memory for good. Now it'll have to be tossed out and it'll be gone from his sight so he won't have to deal with it. That felt like a proper solution.

Lizzy sweeps the pieces up, the whole time wondering about Dean and what she's going to do about him, and when she finishes and begins dumping everything into the trash, she looks over to him.

"Talk to me?"

"No."

"Then just tell me why Sam's laptop needed to be destroyed."

"Because it was there."

She sighs heavily, not meant to upset him but she just doesn't know how else to channel all her frustration.

"Oh, I'm  _so sorry_  I made such a mess for you," Dean sarcastically bites, annoyed with her sighing.

Lizzy just looks at him for a second, their eyes meeting briefly before he turns back to the TV with a face full of ire, and the hole in her heart grows.

He's been this way for the eight days it's been since they got back. Dean has become a dispenser of depressed, furious hostility and he's aiming it all right at Lizzy. She has some understanding as she's the only person there right now that he can unleash anything on but to a certain extent she just can't grasp it at all. She'd never do this to him. But then every person is different in the way they grieve.

As she scoops up the pieces of the computer, the fact that the item she's seen every day for years is gone begins to hit her hard. She pictures all the times she would find Sam lounging in a motel bed, laptop on his long legs as he sits against the head board or parking it at some small café with a vanilla latte as he researches a hunt and she gets choked up.

It'll never be like that again. It's ok that the computer is gone because Sam will never complain about it being gone. He's gone too.

And the sadness overwhelms her.

Dean looks over at her on the floor by the trash can, dustpan in hand with her legs tucked under her. She's crying almost silently with a hand over her mouth, her back hunched and shaking.

Her crying should sadden him as her sorrow was always his own instantly but not today. Today it just annoys the shit out of him.

"Jesus Christ, L," Dean grumbles as he takes another sip of whiskey that he doesn't need. He's already drunk and it's only eleven in the morning.

"Don't be such an asshole, Dean," Lizzy says to him, finally letting a little piece of her personal frustrations with him out. "I'm fucking sad, ok? Sam's fucking gone. I'm allowed to cry."

"Wasn't even your brother."

She can feel the icy sharp metal of a blade stabbing straight into her heart.

"What was that?" Lizzy asks, face wet with copious tears as she hopes she didn't quite hear the comment he makes under his breath.

Dean sharply looks at her, brown lowered and confrontational attitude ready. "He wasn't even  _your_  brother," he repeats louder to her. "You're acting like he was you're blood."

She can't believe her ears. "Fuck you he wasn't my family! I married you. He  _was_  my family. He was as close to me than most people are to their actual blood brothers. What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

"What's wrong with  _you_!?" Dean asks loudly right back. "As much as you like to pretend that Sam was your brother, he wasn't. He was my brother. Sam was mine so cut the crying shit. You're being dramatic."

He doesn't even hear his own words anymore. He just aims for the jugular every time he speaks to her at this point. With the pain he's feeling he just wants to inflict some on someone else, bring them down to his level of misery because the old adage is true, it does love company.

Seeing her reaction he knows he's hurt her good.

"Why would you ever say these things to me?" she quietly asks, curling up in a ball and hugging her shins with the horrible pain of it all, her eyes constantly streaming now. "You know how untrue everything you just said is."

Dean just huffs in disdain and looks away from her, almost ignoring her. She doesn't give up.

"As much as you like to think of Sam as just yours, he wasn't. He was mine too. And Bobby's… fuck you for being so selfish. I know you're hurting here but you don't have to make it worse for me, especially when all I've tried to do is help you because I love you and would never try to kick you when you're down."

"God, you're still talking about this?" Dean raises his voice at her. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, Lizzy! Just stop! I don't need your help on this one! You can't help me so leave me alone!"

"Gladly," she spits back, shoving the last of the computer pieces into the trash can. She grabs everything and heads to the kitchen.

Once alone, she puts everything away, all the while trying her hardest to not let his word cut like the knife that they are.

But it's no use.

She immediately grabs the nearest whiskey bottle and opens it hastily. She chugs down more than she'd like to admit in one goes, looking to dull the loss or maybe make her care less about everything. She slams down the bottle and takes a deep breath but can't stop her emotions from coming. Gripping tight to the counter top she says fuck it and lets the floor gates open yet again. She doesn't cry. She sobs.

Soon enough she finds herself on the floor of the kitchen on the cold linoleum, her back against the cabinets and her head in her hands. She has to fight to breathe through it all, the pain in her chest so strong that she struggles.

The loss is so huge, so massive that the abyss in her heart, first make by her parents and widened by Lou, threatens to swallow her right up. There is no more that she can take right now but Dean sure challenges that.

Just when she needs him the most, and he needs her just as much in turn, Dean decides to shut down and let his anger rule as king. He's a jackass, a cruel and cold jackass, and she doesn't think she can hack it. A week and he's still being harsh and cutting her down whenever possible when all she wants is her husband back.

A simple hug could fix this for her. Hell, a simple look her way that wasn't filled with disgust or hidden hate would do the trick. Lizzy worries that she won't be able to find her way out of all of this. If he can't turn this around she can't do this.

He has to turn it around, though. He will, right? This is just the beginning, the toughest part. A week is not that long. Plus, they're Dean and Lizzy. They're always ok. They always make it through every obstacle they've encountered. They can do this too. They can stick together and make it through…

Hopefully.

* * *

Eyes flying wide open, Dean finds himself staring at the ceiling of Lizzy's bedroom in the dark instead of at the image of his brother's fist flying at his face for the umpteenth time. The pure look of evil in Sam's eyes as Lucifer mercilessly beats the life out of him in that cemetery still haunts Dean as he comes down from the too real nightmare and settles into reality. The cold, malice-filled look that his brother gave him that day is at the top of the list of the most horrifying shit Dean has ever seen in his life and he's been woken up by this sight several times in the past eight days.

Breathing hard he brings a hand to his chest, an instinct with how hard his heartbeat is racing at the moment. His palm lands on a hand smaller than his resting over his heart.

He looks over to see her asleep. Lizzy's laying stomach down and has her head turned in his direction. She keeps a safe distance between them as she has since they've arrived in Massachusetts but she couldn't go the night without some kind of contact with him. Before this week they always slept right next to each other, Lizzy curled into his side and his arm around her shoulders usually. Dean's been doing a great job of distancing himself from her since they arrived here, he's well aware. He can't pinpoint why but he just can't be what they always so easily have been. It felt phony to try and he couldn't bring himself to force a fake life. He doesn't deserve her and happiness, not with what Sam is dealing with. That's unfair. He'd rather just be alone.

But Lizzy cares too much to let him have that. She knows him well, too well probably. He's more than aware that she's just doing what she can to see him through this but he doesn't want her help. He doesn't want anyone's help.

So now he lies awake yet again, staring into the dark space at nothing and letting his mind take over. What's happening to Sam right now? Is he being strong or is he broken already? What could he have done different to save Sam from this? There has to be a way to fix this. Is he being tortured like Dean was for decades? Does Sam now know what it feels like to burn alive? To be skinned to the last nerve? To have mind games played on him that are so real, so intense, and so emotionally painful that it hurt more than the physical torture did?

Shit. He can't think about this. He needs to sleep. It's been too damn long and he's losing it. He needs something that will put him out for a good while and let him not think of Sam at the same exact time.

Lizzy stirs in her sleep a bit when she feels Dean moving. She may have rightfully assumed that he wanted his space but being completely unattached to him while in bed wasn't an option. It felt weird and she wanted to know when he woke or got up so he wouldn't be alone or, better yet, he wouldn't self-destructive without her. As he shifts in his place she comes too, not opening her eyes just yet. She waits and hopes that he'll just slip right back under and not get up and drink this time.

She inhales with surprise when she feels his hand on her hip, sliding quickly under the top of her underwear which is all she has on besides a tank top. Opening her eyes she looks right at him. Dean's wide awake and wasting no time in pushing her panties down her legs.

"Dean?" Lizzy questions his actions with just the use of his name.

He doesn’t answer her at all.  Instead he rolls her over onto her back and kneels between her legs under the covers.  He pulls her underwear off and tosses it aside.

“Baby, what are you doing?” Lizzy softly questions, his actions quick and emotionless.  He looks like he’s on a determined mission.  When she peers downward she notices he’s already shed his boxer briefs before waking her.

Again not answering as he’s been a man of little to no words for a few days now, he doesn’t look her in the eye once.  He keeps his sights focused on solely what he’s doing.  Dean quickly licks his fingers and runs them between her legs, making sure she was wet enough and making Lizzy grow worried.

“Wait,” Lizzy asks of him, reaching a hand to place it on his cheek.  He stops her halfway to her hand’s destination and places it instead on his side where that emotional connection wouldn’t be felt.

“No,” Dean responds, his only word in response before positioning himself and pressing into her.  He grunts something base and without feeling before leaning forward on his elbows.

Not sure what to do, Lizzy goes with it.  Didn’t seem like she had much of a choice anyways.  However, this is the closest he’s let her come to him since his breakdown the first night home when he actually cried for hours and she’s certainly missed him.  At this point any contact with him is welcomed.  She wishes he went about it differently, but she’s not exactly complaining.  Wanting to be intimate, wanting to be this close to her, his body pressed against hers… this could be a good sign, right?

Dean separates his emotional state from his physical one completely.  Never once has he done this when with Lizzy but he does it today.  His emotions are killing him, doling out a slow torture that he can’t get command of.  He needs all of his feelings, every single one, to just stop for a little time.  That even includes love.  He’s too exhausted and destroy to feel anything at this point.

His head lowered and face-down into the pillow beneath her head as he keeps a moderate pace, Lizzy finds herself confused as he thrusts into her over and over.  This is all wrong.  He hasn’t looked at her once.  He never kissed her or even tried to work her up a bit first.  And right now, with Dean on top of her, fucking her in the coldest manner she’s ever seen from him, she’s in shock.  What is this?  _Who_ is this?

“Fuck,” she can just make out him saying in a hard whisper before he’s tensing.  After just a couple of minutes tops, Dean’s spent.  As he comes, his focus still nowhere near on her or her body, she’s trapped under him in stunned silence.  He breaths heavily, pumps into her a few more times as he rides out his orgasm, and wordlessly gets off of her.  Looking over to him for answers or an explanation of any kind, she’s instead greeted by his back turning to her.

Dean settles in facing away from her and closes his eyes.  That was the best he’s felt all week.  It was emotion free and purely an action of desperate need.  He found a few moments of reprieve from his evil mind and now, much like after sex all the time, he’s even slightly tired.  This was just what he needed.  Thank God.  He just desperately needed some form of release.

Staring at the expanse of his back as he drifts off, Lizzy stays in place, almost afraid to move. 

He used her. The seriously concerning thought rattles around in her brain. He used her. Her Dean, her husband she's been crazy about for years now, the man that's been so in love with her it almost scares her now and then just coldly used her. He must have assumed she wouldn't mind. His actions were purely selfish… and completely devastating to her.

How could he so easily do that? How could he just abuse his relationship with her like that? How is that ok to him?

Sitting up and swinging her feet out of bed, she settles briefly at the edge of the mattress with a hand over her mouth. Appalled doesn't even cover it. She doesn't know what to do with herself after that. The only thing she does know is she can't be in this bed anymore and she certainly can't be near him right now.

Walking into the living room with her pillow in her hand, she looks around the room. Both empty and half empty whiskey bottles litter the room, clothing items are tossed onto furniture, and uneaten food that Dean refused to even try and consume after she's make it for him sits cold on the coffee table, she sighs.

Grabbing a pair of Dean's sweatpants off the upholstered chair, she pops them on so she doesn't have to sleep bottomless. She then takes up a bottle of bourbon that Dean surprisingly hadn't managed to kill just yet and plops down onto the couch.

With a huge sip taken down, Lizzy tries to hold back yet more tears. She's so helpless in this situation. She's so lost and still so devastated by Sam's sacrifice that the world somehow feels heavier than it ever has as it continues to rest on her shoulder. And never in her life has she felt so alone while in Dean's presence. She's suffering silently.

More whiskey chugged, the desolation of everything hits her. After what she just saw of him she doesn't know how to help Dean. She just doesn't. No matter what she tries he just rejects her assistance and love and continues to wallow and dig that hole he's in a little deeper than where it was the day before. She's all he has and she's failing him miserably. And now he's abusing the fact that she's so caring and that she's tied to him for life. He just took her without second thought in such an emotionless manner. That doesn't sit well with her at all.

What the fuck is she supposed to do about all this?

* * *

With a rough grumble, Bobby rolls to his side as he comes out of his blacked out state. For a moment he assumed he was on his couch as very vaguely he remembers sitting down there and drinking himself numb the night before, but if that's where he is then he needs to get a new couch. It's hard as hell and awfully uncomfortable.

Forcing his lids to lift, he starts to see the reason why his couch feels so shitty. He's not on his couch. He's on his living room floor in front of the couch. He must have rolled off in his sleep. That would probably be why his back hurts so bad on the right side. That's probably where he landed.

"Balls," Bobby mutters as he sits up and leans his back into the foot of the couch. His head is swimming while pounding at the same time. It's the fucking same thing all over again. He already had to watch one son get dragged off to hell and it's like his life is on repeat. Sam's gone, in the pit, and is getting tortured just like Dean did… probably worse.

He hardly made it the first time. Nothing makes him think he'll actually make it through this time.

It hurts so bad that for over a week he's been drunker than shitfaced. He's also let his job go. The idea of answering his phones, his fake lines… that just seemed pointless. It'll never be Sam on the other end like he wants it to be. Bobby always loved getting not the bitch about Dean calls or the vouch for him calls, but it was those random calls from Sam when he couldn't quite figure out what they were up against that the old hunter loved. The kid was so damn smart, smarter than anyone he's ever met before, that talking out a hunt or sharing something with Sam that he didn't already know always gave him a little spark of joy. He loved helping that kid, loved it since the days when he helped little mop headed Sammy start to learn how to read when he was just turning four. Damn it that kid was so fucking smart.

Sighing heavily, Bobby picks himself up off the floor and drops onto the old couch. He realizes as he picks up the bottle of cheap Irish whiskey off the floor to take a chug that he hasn't heard from Lizzy since they left Detroit. Irish whiskey will always remind him of her. She's probably called a few times but he just hasn't answered. Shit. He's doing the same thing all over again. When Dean went to hell she was the one that took the full responsibility of checking on every member of their small family and he doesn't want that for her. Dean's going to be tough enough as it is and Sam was practically her brother. She's mourning too.

He grabs his cell phone off the side table, ignores all the missed calls and messages on it, and dials her up. After the phone rings several times he hears her pick up.

"Hello?" she asks in a tired, rough voice. He clearly woke her up.

"Liz," Bobby succinctly greets, looking at the old clock on the wall he sees that it's only seven-thirty in the morning. He probably should have called later than this.

"Bobby? That you?" she asks, sounding hopeful that it's actually him in her quite exhausted voice.

"Yeah hon, it's me," he tells her.

"Oh thank God," she whispers, sounding as if she didn't want him to hear it but he still did.

"Thank God? You sure you want to do that?" Bobby half jests as God is on none of their favorite lists right now. He's at the very tip top of their shit list.

"If it means that you're alive, then yeah. I sure do," she says as she clears her throat, still trying to kick start herself.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," he tells her, moving on from the subject at hand. Not a conversation he wants to have.

"No, it's fine. I'm on the couch so you didn't wake Dean yet… which is probably a good thing."

"He not sleeping much?" Bobby worries. She sounds so deflated. Something is wrong, more than just what he'd assume in the situation.

"Not really but mostly it's good because he's quiet when he's sleeping."

"What does that mean?"

The pause hangs between them as she obviously tries to figure out how to explain herself. "It means it's been really tough around here. Impossible, really. I'm kinda at a loss."

"Loss for what?" Bobby asks, his concern making his stomach knot.

"Loss for… I'm just totally lost," she tries to explain. "I'm hurting, Bobby. So bad… and I don't know what to do about Dean. I knew he'd be a fucking disaster but…" she sighs and he knows she's trying not to break down.

"But what?" he keeps pushing her, knowing that the only way Lizzy doesn't crack in a horrible way is when she gets it all out through talking. If he keeps pushing, she'll keep talking.

"But…" she hesitates. He knows she doesn't want to speak negatively about Dean. Lizzy's never really had to do that. Sure, she's complained about how he's stubborn or reckless, but she's never had anything too major to say since he's gotten out of hell.

"Just tell me, Liz," he tries to get her to open up. "You need help, I can tell. Spill it."

"I don't know," her voice cracks as she starts to cry. "I don't know what to do, Bobby. He's so mean. So fucking mean to me. He won't let me help him at all and he's said such horrible things. I know he doesn't really mean them but… he told me he doesn't care about me anymore. That I'm only here for him because I have to be. That I can't understand him. And then last night…." She stops herself short. "Shit."

"What happened last night?" Bobby is very nervous now. Lizzy never cries over Dean like this and to hear that he's been malicious towards her in any way means that something is very wrong with that boy. Very wrong.

"It's nothing… just I don't know what to do here. I've always known how to handle him, how to help him… but I don't know how to this time." He listens to her cry a bit and gives her time. "I just… I want to help him but I need his help too. I'm a mess. Fuck, he's never done anything like this before. I completely get it but… I'm fucking scared."

"You think I need to come out there?" Bobby has a sudden urge to make a road trip if not to help Lizzy but to kick Dean's ass back into livable shape. That kid will either end up killing himself or killing her if he doesn't figure some of his sorrow out.

"No!" she immediately blurts. "You don't need to see either of us like this. And it won't help anyways. I feel like if I can't get through to him then no one can, not even you. Wouldn't be worth the trip yet but if he gets worse I will take you up on that." She takes a deep breath on the other line and forces it out. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm bitching to you so much when I know you're hurting too. I'm stronger than this, I know I am…"

"Jesus, Liz. You gotta stop thinkin' that you have to be the tough one for all of us all the damn time. You're human. You need someone to lean on too, even if tweedle-dumbass isn't there for you at the moment."

At this she cries harder into the phone, her voice so sad it absolutely shatters his heart.

"So start talking," Bobby tells her. "And start leaning right now. I ain't always gonna be in the best mental state to help you so you better start opening the flood gates while the chance is here."

"I miss him," she immediately sobs in a rush. "God Bobby, it hurts so fucking bad. I miss him so fucking much. I just want my Sam-I-Am back."

"I know it, hon."

"I can't do this all over again. It was hard enough with Dean and I don't, I don't know what to do…"

"Just tell me all of it, hon," Bobby opens himself up to her in a rare moment that usually only she gets to experience but they are very few and very far between. "You got me as long as you need me. I'm right here."

* * *

 


	3. June 9th

* * *

"You have to eat something," Lizzy just short of scolds him as she walks away from the living room in an agitated state. As she heads quickly down the wooden floored hallway of her apartment…  _their_  apartment… she calls back to him, "It's been way too long since you ate really anything. It's not good."

"Not hungry," Dean snarls to himself as he stays seated on the oversized couch in the living room with his glass of whiskey in hand. His five o'clock shadow is longer than he normally likes to keep it, making it a full blown beard at this point, and his hair is matted. He hasn't left the couch or their bed since they arrived two weeks ago. He sleeps whenever he can manage in the bedroom and exists while awake in the living room.

"I can still hear you," Lizzy points out from the kitchen which only makes Dean grumble quietly and turn up the volume on the TV to ignore her.

Drinking is really the only thing he can do, or at least that's all he wants to do, and everything else in life seems worthless. Sam's gone and he's not coming back. He told Dean not to come for him and somehow he has to live with that. Right as he sits there on a comfortable couch, in a rented house with food, warmth, comfort, and a woman that loves him, Sam is being horrifically and demonically torn to shreds, his soul literally dismantled and disfigured until there's no Sam actually left. How is eating something on the list of important things to do? Who gives a fuck?

He's jarred a bit when Lizzy walks into the room. Having been caught up in his thoughts he didn't hear her coming. She smiles small to him in a kind manner, fighting her own depression and growing anger with him in order to do so, while dropping a plate on the coffee table in front of him.

"L, I already told you…"

"Too bad," she sternly and stubbornly cuts him right off before returning to her normal, caring tone after taking a deep breath. Her own poor attitude will not help anything. "It's been two weeks, Dean. You haven't eaten barely at all and for you that's insane. I'm just trying to keep you healthy and alive so…" she leans over the coffee table and nudges the plate with a sandwich on it closer to him with a flick of her finger. "Eat."

"Leave it alone," Dean sighs deeply, his tone just so sad, and rolls the glass of whiskey in his hands as he hunches over staring into it.

It's been awful these past weeks. Lizzy's hurting so badly herself yet at the same time she knows she has to be strong. She's all Dean has left. Her patience however, it's wearing quite thin. He's been a beast to her for fifteen days, taking advantage of her careful and caring nature while constantly putting her down and putting their relationship at risk. Lizzy gets it, but it's hard to withstand it all. She's tough but this might just be more than she can handle.

"Sure, no problem… oh, wait. I can't leave it alone," she says as she takes a seat on the couch and drops a hand on his knee. "I love you too much. The rules of love say that I have to be the annoying one who does anything and everything to make sure you're ok… or at least not starving to death."

Dean pulls his knee away from her and looks at her, silently telling her to stop with just his scowl.

"Just half," she tries to wheel and deal with him. "You eat a half, I'll make myself eat a half… we'll be miserable, not-hungry people together as we force down minimal amounts of food for survival purposes only. I'll do it with you."

"You haven't been eating?" Dean asks with sudden concern when he hears her say she wasn't hungry. The moment something is wrong with her it makes his instincts to be worried take over, even now. It's the most attention he's paid her in a while.

"Nice of you to notice, but not really," she answers sarcastically and honestly. "I've choked down something once each day though. I know from experience that eating is pretty crucial when being a mourning mess. I stopped eating all together when I had lost you for four months and I know how that ends up." She grabs and holds out half the sandwich for him to take.

He looks at her, actually looks at her for the first time in days. She looks like shit. Her eyes are sunken and dark-circled. She looks sad, her smile fake but there for his sake only. She looks nothing like the Lizzy he knows. When did that happen? Has he really been that ignorant of her this whole time?

Yet for whatever reason he just can't give in.

"I'm fine," Dean assures her quickly before downing the several gulps of whiskey left in his glass.

"It's ok to admit that you're not," Lizzy tries even harder. "I know I'm not fine. Nowhere near it."

Dean doesn't answer.

"Come on," she continues, taking his hand and putting the sandwich half in his palm. "We both don't want to do it so let's just get it over with."

"No," Dean tells her straight, pushing the food right back at her.

"Yes." No way in hell is she letting him refuse her yet again. She's not backing down on this one, not for two weeks in a row.

"I'm not gonna fucking eat," Dean heatedly tells her, slamming the sandwich half back onto the plate, smashing it and effectively ruining the integrity of it. "Stop being such a nag about this. I'm a grown fucking man who isn't hungry. I can make that decision for myself."

Sighing loudly, Lizzy grits her teeth and balls her fist, trying her best to keep calm. "I've been patient, Dean. I have. I  _really_  have. But enough is enough with this."

"Oh, you don't like how I'm acting?" Dean asks sarcastically.

"No, I really don't," she instantly agrees, trying to keep her voice at an even place.

"Well too fucking bad!" Dean shouts at her, actually shouts, and it makes her jump with the sound. It's been rare that he's spoken to her like that. They may bicker a lot but yell at each other? That was rare.

"Don't be upset with me…" she tries to explain her motives but Dean wants to hear none of it.

"I'm not listening to this again," Dean bites and stands up. He marches out of the room and into the bedroom. She slams the door hard behind him, Lizzy jumping once more with the bang from where she sits still on the couch.

His back leaning against the inside of door, Dean inhales hard. He's mad, angrier than angry… and not at all at Lizzy. It had nothing to do with her and he's more than aware of that fact.

This whole thing is too much. He can't bare this all. Sam's gone. His baby brother, his best friend, his number one go to, his last blood family member is fucking gone. Wait, not gone… damned. And that's so much worse.

When he drinks he can manage the pain and sometimes black out hard enough to sleep without nightmares of hell and what Sam is going through right now. Blacking out is his favorite, most comfortable place right now. Everything else, every other state of being feels too difficult and wrong. He's still here, still alive and with a wonderful woman by his side that just wants to be there for him even if he can't bring himself to accept her. Sam is burning, tearing, being tortured beyond what even he knows, and what he knows is a staggeringly, horribly huge amount.

"Baby?" Lizzy cautiously asks from the other side of the bedroom door. She knew he was just looking for an escape from her, from life, and from having to do things like eat but she's so worried about him that she couldn't leave it alone.

Dean slides his back down the door when he gives up. Standing seemed too hard. It may be only about two in the afternoon but he hasn't eaten in days and all he's done is drink. He's already wasted. And emotional. And a fucking disaster.

"Dean?" she tries again, her voice just begging to hear him, to know that there's a glimmer of hope for him. "Please, just talk to me."

Instead of answer he curls up, knees drawl to his chest. He fights the tears. He's so fucking sick of tears.

"Hot Shot, I'm sorry," he hears her say clearly through the heavy, old door. She's trying so hard. "I just want to help. I'm lost here too, ok? I don't know anything except that you're all I have left. You've barely spoken to me this whole time." She pauses after her voice cracks a bit. So much for being the tough one. "I know it's hard and I'm not expecting some miraculous recovery or overnight change. I just… I want you to be ok enough to live. I want to know you're eventually going to take care of yourself. I need to know that you're not going to be leaving me."

Damn it.

"I'm not… leaving…" Dean tries to speak for the first time since he slammed the door. "Why would you ever think that?"

"Because you  _will_  leave me if you stay on this track," Lizzy sadly tell him, she herself now sitting in the hallway Indian-style facing the door with just the thickness of it between them. "I'll definitely lose you. You have to keep yourself alive and drinking so much without eating will kill you. You  _will_  drink yourself to death. I can't lose you too."

Washing a hand down his face, Dean bites the inside of his cheek to keep his emotions at bay. He's exhausted from feeling so much all the time and now she's adding to it.

"Please don't be mad at me," Lizzy keeps trying. "You've been mad at me constantly and I can't take it anymore. You know I only do these things to help."

"I know."

The sound of his voice nearly cripples her emotionally. He's crying. She hates it so much when he cries. Dean always looks so helpless like that and if something is making him cry it's a huge something that it's over. It just breaks her heart into pieces every time.

"I'm not saying you have to get over anything," Lizzy tells him, thinking she understands him. "There's no getting over this. Never." She swears she's had to say this before… to Sam. "But you have to take care of yourself. And you have to let me help you. Please. That's what I'm here for, isn't it?"

Dean nods slightly, agreeing with her even if she can't see his answer.

"I'm not asking much. Just eat a little… maybe drink just a little less. For now that's it."

He wipes a hand down his face to get rid of the tears and sighs.

Lizzy sits patiently outside the door. She'll do this every day she can bear it until he starts to get better. She's absolutely been there before. She lost her sister and that experience, that devastating loss was absolutely the worst, most difficult thing she's ever had to go through… tied only with losing Dean to hell a few months later. She's done this twice and she's done it alone. Lizzy refuses to let Dean trudge through this by himself, even if he deserves it for what he's been putting her through. She didn't have anyone when this happened to her but Dean still does.

She gets up to her feet quickly when she hears the bedroom door click open.

Dean pulls the heavy door all the way and looks at her. His wife stands there, waiting for him to say something, anything so that she can gage where he is. After a moment, Dean steps through the doorway and wraps his arms around her. She's surprised,  _very_  surprised, but she happily takes the moment for all it is. He's been so distant and frigidly cold that this hug is something she relishes immensely.

They stay there for another minute unspeaking as they both really needed this moment to happen.

Lizzy backs away just a bit and cups his face, relaxing a bit when he lets her. "I just want to help. I love you too much not to try and be a constant pain in your ass."

Dean nods, his sad eyes lighting up just briefly with her reassurance before glazing back over with pain.

"So you have two options," she explains to him. "You can eat something small or… you can take a shower. You're starting to stink."

Thinking it over he realizes he's taken one shower since they've arrived in Massachusetts. He's gross.

"Shower," Dean tells her simply, before adding begrudgingly, "Then eat."

Lizzy looks to him warmly with his words as she's a little relieved. "Good." She kisses him quickly on the lips, another first since they got home. "You want me with you?" she questions, knowing how being alone has been really difficult for him. If Lizzy leaves the room for more than a couple minutes she knows he'll soon come to her and mill about wherever she is just so that he isn't by himself. Even if he's just there to say something hurtful, he needs her near.

Dean nods yes and she grins small before kissing him quickly again. She knows this shared shower isn't going to be about sex. Hell they haven't had sex since they've gotten home… aside from the one middle of the night sad encounter days ago that Lizzy is more than willing to forget about if she can. She's not looking for sex anyways. This is simply about getting him in a better, more manageable place and he's always more manageable when she's by his side. Literally.

"Ok," Lizzy says reassuringly before they both walk silently to the bathroom. Lizzy finally finds a way to hold out some hope for him. She could really use him turning around a bit. She needs help too.

* * *

New sandwich on the plate in her hand, Lizzy makes her way down the hallway of the apartment. When she rounds the corner she places the plate in front of Dean who's once more sitting on the couch. She shakes out her still wet from the shower hair as she takes a seat next to him, both wearing sweatpants and t-shirts. This time she tries to sit a bit closer to him than he's allowed her to be in the past few days. He doesn't instantly move away and she's grateful for that.

Lizzy picks up a half of the sandwich and passes it to him. Dean holds it and sighs, not feeling hungry in the least. However, taking a shower actually made him tired with the movement of it all so he knows he has to fix this problem now. Plus he still has a hefty glass of whiskey there to help wash down the food.

Reluctantly, Dean takes a bite.

He chews for a bit, barely tasting the sandwich in his mouth as he forces it down his throat. One mouthful down, several to go.

While keeping his eyes on the TV, not really absorbing anything that the local news is informing him of, he brings the sandwich up to his mouth again. His arm freezes on its way when he hears a hushed sigh to his right.

Peering over at Lizzy, he lowers the sandwich half when he realizes she's crying.

"Sorry," she apologizes when she sees him looking at her and wipes her eyes. "Keep eating. I'm fine." She smiles in a fake manner at him through her tears.

Dean tilts his head and gives her the silent 'no fucking way'. He knows she's not fine.

"I just… I'm, I guess… relieved," she explains, her emotions still rolling with the sight of him doing something to help himself for the first time. "This has been so fucking impossible and you were scaring me so much and to see you eating… and not moving away from me when I come near you…" She cries a little harder when she's able to see improvement and hope in her husband for once. "It's been hard."

Dean places his food on the plate and does something he hasn't done in a long time. He focuses fully on her and not at all on himself.

"I miss him so much too… I miss Sam so much and it hurts like a fucking bitch," she sobs out, unable to hold anything back. "And I didn't have anyone left either. Bobby hadn't been answering his phones for days and you…" Instead of finish that sentence she just shrugs. "And I just need you," she explains. "I just needed a little bit of connection. Of us. I know you couldn't help me, and it's ok that you couldn't. You lost your fucking brother. It's awful and horrible and it  _should_  make you depressed. But Sam was mine too. He took a huge chuck of me with him into that pit just like he did you. I'm hurting really bad here."

Dean just nods, knowing she must have been having a hard time too. His depression has just been too thick to fight through in order to really recognize it in her. He and Sam have always had a stronger connection than anything he's ever seen so he knows his mourning has been exceptionally awful… much like Sam's was when he lost his brother to hellfire.

"I know I can't expect much from you right now," Lizzy continues to explain herself. "So I tried so hard to focus on being your rock and being so strong for you because you need that more than you ever have before."

"You shouldn't ignore yourself like that," Dean tells her, his tone harsher than he meant.

"I thought I could handle it," Lizzy says honestly.

"Clearly you were wrong."

"I know," she concurs, wiping her eyes again. "I just want you back. I want my husband back. Even if it's for a few minutes a day and that's it. I need him."

"He's right here," Dean tells her, not understanding just how absent he's been.

"Physically, sure," Lizzy says to him. "But not emotionally. You know how I am. I need to talk. I need to have some kind of contact with someone I love. I need you. All of you."

"I can't… talk… about  _it_ ," Dean sadly tells her, the person he is just not allowing him to verbally rehash a damn thing about what he's seen and what he's feeling right now.

"I know," she assures him. She sure did know. Lizzy is aware of who she married. "But when you can…?"

"Yeah," he agrees very simply to be there for her when he's ready.

Lizzy nods, her face still riddled with fear, anxiety, and misery. She once more pushed her own inner turmoil aside and lightly taps his hand. "Eat up. You said you would."

With a sigh, Dean picks up his sandwich half and takes another bite, choking down the food. If he eats she'll worry less so he does what he can.

* * *

 


	4. June 16th

* * *

"This little piggy went to the market," Lucifer starts to recite to old children's rhyme as he grabs tightly to Sam's ankle. He looks up to the frightened face of the man strapped onto the rack and smiles as he lops off Sam's baby toe with the large gleaming knife in his hand. It's done quickly and without much effort.

Sam just grunts with the sting. He's so used to pain by now that this is nothing.

"This little piggy stayed home," Lucifer keeps going, cutting off the next toe. "This little piggy had roast beef!" he recites in a booming tone as if Sam were just a child he was amusing while dismembering him. And then he uses a sad tone for, "And this little piggy had none."

Sam starts to sweat when the pain begins to build. He knows this is nothing compared to where they are headed but he can't help it. It still hurt.

"And this little piggy went 'weeee!' all the way home!" Lucifer glees as he finishes taking all the toes on Sam's right foot off. He laughs heartily. "I bet no mother every used that nursery rhyme quite like that, eh bunk buddy?"

Sam doesn't say a word, just closes his eyes and huffs. He wonders how his family is doing. He does that now and then, when the pain or emotional toll isn't so big that he can't think of anything else that is.

Dean. As stupid as it sounds he worries every second that he can about his brother. Sam should be way more concerned about himself and where he is but he can't seem to care about that as much.

Is his big brother over it? There's no way he is. But is he managing the loss of Sam to the Cage? Or is he still alive at all? Sam's feared for Dean's life from the second he started falling down that pit. He can't handle loss well, he never has. This was the big one though. This is the one that if Dean were to ever end it all early it'd be the final blow that would push him into doing it.

But then there's Lizzy. He didn't ever have Lizzy through a huge loss like this before. She wasn't there when he was four and their mother burned on the ceiling and they hadn't met when their father sold his soul to save Dean. Boy would it have helped if they had just met a mere couple of months earlier. Dean would have maybe handled that loss better if she'd been there.

No, he convinces himself. Dean isn't dead. Dean's definitely alive. Lizzy  _is_  there this time around. He doesn't worry so much after that though creeps into his brain. He trusts his sister-in-law implicitly. She's going to see Dean through this, give him something to hold onto hope for. They're going to be ok.

Maybe they have kids by now. He's completely lost track of time since he arrived in the worse-than-hell-hell. He knows the conversion well enough. One month is ten years. Dean told him that. But what he doesn't know is how many years he's been here. It's been impossible to count the days.

Lucifer starts in on his other foot, babbling to him about who knows what and Sam works hard to keep his concentration on other, more promising things. He's been getting good at that. The pain, when minimal enough, can be ignored in favor of more pleasing thoughts.

Right now he focuses on what he hopes for his brother. Dean's happy. He has a house somewhere quiet, in the suburbs of a city or something. He keeps the lawn looking good and drinks beer with buddies on the weekends. The Impala gets all the maintenance she could ever need and is always in flawless condition as Dean now has the time to make sure of it.

And Lizzy is there with him. They work like regular stiffs and love their family more than anything. And they have one. They have two kids. The oldest is a boy, named Samuel. He knows it was only a joke when he made Dean promise to have kids and name them after him but he knows Dean well enough to be sure that if they had a boy he'd be Sammy. And they have a little girl too, one that looks just like Lizzy and is strong and beautiful just like her. He would guess they'd call her Louise if Lou didn't hate her own name so damn much. Because of that Lizzy won't use that name. His best guess is they would go with Mary. She'd have blond hair just like her namesake and just like her daddy.

They spend time at parks playing, or going to fairs and other kid-driven events. They smile every day. They laugh every day. They never forget the past and they never tell their children about any of it… but they constantly look to the future. They don't dwell on loss. They live on hope.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Lucifer shouts up to Sam as he snaps his bloodied fingers several times. Sam realizes how angry he looks as he's snapped out of his pleasant and rewarding daydream. "What the fuck, Winchester? Am I boring you today?"

"You've been more entertaining in the past, it's true. You might lose your edge," Sam boldly replies, feeling a little like his brother in his poor attitude and quick wit.

"Really…" Lucifer nods with surprise. "Ok, fine. You want something more entertaining than The Little Piggies then how about we do a little Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes then? Ha! Would you look at that! Toes are already done!"

With one quick swipe he slices off Sam's knee cap. Ok, that one hurt for real. Sam grits his teeth and deals with it though. No sense in giving this satanic douche bag any more pleasure than he has to.

"Still quiet, huh?" Lucifer marvels, knowing that over time Sam's gotten better at handling his pain threshold that was already far too high to begin with. "Guess I'll just have to up my game then. I don't want you going off and dreaming of the good life for that fucking retard of a brother of yours again. What is that, huh? What is it with you two?"

Sam just stares hard at his tormentor's eyes, not answering.

"Just never seen two men love each other so much and not actually be super homo for each other. It's weird."

"Fuck you," Sam grumbles, not able to let the shit talking go any longer.

"Alright, alright. Touchy-touchy." Lucifer twirls his knife in his hand once. "Despite appearances, mannerisms, general aura, and total neatness as a man, you're straight. I know it. I've been inside you." Lucifer lets out a bellow. "Oh the irony! Maybe you're gay after all. I don't know. Ah, I crack myself up."

As quickly as it takes to blink the knife in Lucifer's hand becomes an impressive and seriously terrifying looking pair of rusty pliers.

"I do know that I'm gonna get you screaming for mercy though," he winks at Sam as the human soul swallows hard with fear. "Open wide, Sammy-boy. Time to play Tooth Fairy!"

* * *

The FBI line rings from the kitchen and Bobby looks up at it from his desk in his study. His phones all but stopped receiving calls a week after he stopped answering while in his drunken depression. He thought that three weeks of absence would make most hunters give up on him.

As the line rings again, he gets up from his seat and makes his way to the kitchen. He figures that if someone hasn't yet given up on him yet then he can't give up on them.

"Agent Warren," Bobby stoically answers just like he always did.

"Bullshit. You ain't no Agent Warren," he hears the tough and always slightly angry voice he knows so well answer right back.

He sighs. "Rufus." His tone is flat and unimpressed.

"So you're answering phones again, are you?" he patronizes harshly. "I thought losing a second Winchester kid was gonna kill you for sure."

"How do you know about that?" Bobby instantly worries. Neither he nor his kids are talking about this to anyone, especially hunters.

"The world suddenly goes back to default and you don't think I know what that means?" Rufus points out. "The devil's gone… or dead. Been spreading around like wildfire through the grapevine. Lizzy and Dean are holed up back in her hometown and Sam's nowhere to be seen. I can put two and two together."

"Yeah, well… good for you," Bobby returns with an acidic bite. "And I'm still kicking."

"Good, because without you I got no one dumb enough to vouch for my ass."

"Well, it's been lovely talking to you…" Bobby starts to end his conversation as he really doesn't need to take anymore shit than life is currently dealing him.

"Wait, wait," Rufus complains. "Look, I just want to make sure you're alright, relatively speaking. I know what Sam meant to you, man…"

"I'm fine," Bobby stops him.

"Famous last words of every hunter I've ever met."

"Kiss my old wrinkly ass, Rufus. I said I'm fine." Now Bobby's just starting to get pissed.

"Which means you ain't," he fights right back. "You think I don't know you by now? Fuck that. I know you, Bobby. I got your number."

"Yeah, so?"

"So… you need help… the kind Johnny Walker ain't gonna give ya'."

"I'll manage," Bobby assures, knowing it's a lie for the most part.

"You ever gonna stop being such a stubborn bastard and just ask for help when you need it?"

Bobby stays silent. He already asked once, when Dean was gone. He doesn't want to have to ask again. This isn't an arena he's comfortable being in.

A knock on his front door interrupts his thoughts and his phone conversation.

"Well would you look at that," Bobby says with smug satisfaction. "Someone's at the door. I gotta go." He slams the phone down into its cradle on the wall with plans to get back on Rufus' good side by calling him in a few days when he's ready to. His friend was just trying to help but when has Bobby ever easily taken assistance when offered? And without a fight?

Once at the front door he doesn't bother peeking out first to see who it is. He just opens the door sure that it's safe to.

"Rude," Rufus immediately calls him when Bobby finds the man standing in front of his doorway, cell phone still in hand. "You hang up on all your old hunting buddies like that?"

"Only the ones that're dicks," Bobby spits right back, highly unprepared for the visit. "Why didn't you just tell me you were here?"

"If you thought it was actually me at the door would you have answered it?"

"Hell no," Bobby answers without thinking as the man walks past him and into the house without invitation.

"So I did the right thing then," the bold hunter says back as he walks straight for the kitchen.

"What do you want, Rufus?" Bobby follows him and watches as he grabs two glasses.

"To see that you ain't rotting on top of a pile of books with bullet in that trucker hat of yours," he answers, placing a tumbler in front of each of the unoccupied chairs at the kitchen table. He pulls a paper bag out of his jacket and removes the bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label from it. "I won't lose sleep now knowing that I don't have to haul your dead ass out back and give you the hunter's send off all by my lonesome. You're heavy and my back's been hurting."

Bobby stands there, unsure of what to do as his longtime friend pours out two hefty glasses of the only booze Rufus will drink.

"Thought you said Johnny ain't gonna be able to help me," Bobby jokes as he takes a seat opposite Rufus.

"Well he can't fix what ails ya' but he can sure lessen the blow for a while," Rufus answers back. He picks up his glass and holds it up to Bobby across the table. "To Sammy boy."

Bobby looks down into his glass for a moment before looking back up to his friend. He holds out his own glass. "To Sam."

They clink glasses and down the large amount of high priced liquor in one go. Once done, glasses back on the tables, Rufus moves to pour out more.

"So what the fuck happened, Bobby?"

With a sigh, his eyes close for a moment. Instantly he's greeted with the look in Sam's possessed eyes, the fear in everyone else's, the cold and deafening silence in that cemetery, and the slight smirk on Sam's face before he can hear his own neck snapping and it all goes black. His lids fly open instantly.

"Gimme another go of the good stuff and I'll tell ya'."

* * *

 


	5. June 27th (Part 1)

* * *

"A whole month?" the voice asks with surprise and Dean spins around on his heels to look at the source. A comely woman in a tight black dress smiles at him. "Thought I would have seen you're finely sculpted ass much sooner than this."

The dirt in the middle of the crossroads intersection crunching under his boots, Dean shifts from one foot to the other as he looks at her, the woman's eye flashing red briefly to ensure he knows who she is.

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I?" he smartly replies, ready for whatever this untoward meeting had to hand him.

"You certainly are," she answers, walking closer and smiling wide with glee. "And it is just  _wonderful_  to see you, Dean."

"Wish I could say the same," he quickly and caustically returns.

"Though you're looking a bit unlike yourself I must say," she says, looking him over more closely. He's thin, so thin his cheek bones are far too noticeable. The dark bags under his eyes along with the sway in his stance shows his lack of sleep and probable drunken state. "Been a rough month there, sport?"

"Can we get down to business here?"

"I would love to but I'm sorry… I just don't think there's a deal to be had here, honey," the crossroads demon tells him as she walks up to him, her hand pressing to his chest before trailing downward. He snatches up her wrist before she can head lower than his belt.

"Hands to yourself… I'm a married man," Dean quips and shoves her hand away.

"Ooh, temper-temper. Shame this all didn't happen sooner, huh? Before you met the great  _Elizabeth_?" She says Lizzy's name with disgust as she starts to walk in a slow circle around him. "So let me take one wild guess here… you want to barter for Sam?"

"What will it take to get him out?" Dean's voice comes out like steel, ready to find out just what the price is on saving his brother's life.

"Hmmm," she hums while letting her fingers drag across the back of his shoulders. "Short of a miracle by God himself, nothing at all can save that caged up brother of yours."

"What!?" Dean punches out the question. "I thought you bitches could do anything as long as a deal is made."

"Most of the time sure but, as they say, there's an exception to every rule."

"And why is Sam the exception?"

"Really!?" the dark haired demon asks incredulously as she crosses her arms and stands directly in front of him a mere inches away. "You have to ask that?"

Dean stares at her and waits for the explanation.

"He purposefully dove head first into Lucifer's Cage and brought my father with him, you simpleton!" she tells him, quickly becoming enraged with his stupidity. "Sam is the reason our savior remains locked up!"

"But that's only because Lucifer went after Sam first…"

"Because he was the chosen one!" her eyes return to red with her growing anger. "He was supposed to sack up and lead us all to glory! He didn't!" She steps right up into Dean's face and stares him down. "Your brother is the most immense disappointment this world has ever seen."

"Oh, I don't know," Dean smirks a bit and jests. "Heaven might say that label belongs to me."

"Dean Winchester being pathetic and self-hating… I swear I've seen this episode before."

"Please…" Dean's voice comes out quiet now, the emotional toll of everything clear. He skips the whole tough guy act and moves right into the begging. Whatever will work. "I just want my brother."

She moves just an inch into his personal space, her eyes still red with fury and her body tense.

"And why would I ever want to give him back to you?" she seethes.

"'Cause I need him," Dean admits with a broken heart and a tremble in his chin. "He's my little brother. I'm supposed to keep him safe."

"Like you did the first time he died and you swapped your worthless ass for his?"

"He doesn't deserve this," Dean keeps pleading, his eyes watering over. "He's a way better person than I am. If anything I'm the one who should be down there."

"Well, we're in agreement there," the demon says, her eyes clearing to their nature color as she steps back a bit.

"Just… take me," he has to force himself to say. He knows what this means, what it means for his eternal soul. He doesn't let the idea of what this will do to Lizzy creep into his thoughts and have any kind of recognition in his mind. He'd back out if he did. This had to have nothing to do with her.

"What!?"

"Put me down there," Dean asks her. "You take him out of the cage and you put me right in there. For good."

Stopping for a moment, looking right at him with shock, she's surprised. "Do you have any idea what you're asking for?"

"Pretty good one," Dean answers as he truly does.

"Hell was nothing…  _nothing_  compared to being Lucifer's special pet. Dean, you don't want this." Out of sheer pity she turns and starts to walk away from the insane individual. She couldn't bring herself to deal with him anymore.

"I do want it!" he calls out loudly to her, making her pause as he takes a shaky deep breath. "I want to be down there. I want Sam up here. It'll be better that way."

She turns back to him, ten feet now between them in the middle of the converging roads.

"A normal life is something he can hack," Dean keeps going, hoping to appeal to the demon even if it's a slim to none chance. "He'll fit in and make a life for himself. I can't do that. I don't know  _how_  to do that. I'm starting to see that a normal life isn't right for me but for Sam… it's everything he's wanted. He's earned it. I want him to have that. I want him out even if it puts me in there."

"You've talked to your little wifey about all this?"

"She'll be there for Sam," Dean answers quickly, falsely assuring himself of this. "And she's stronger than anyone else I know. She can handle this. She's done it before."

The crossroads demon once more stops and stares at him.

"Lucifer will never allow Sam out," she explains to the devastated hunter. "Never. Sam will forever be his project that he takes his full blown fury out of. Even if I was allowed to make this deal with you he'd disallow it immediately."

"Then don't take him out… just put me in." The lone tear of helplessness trails down his cheek as he looks at her with desperation. "If you can't get him out then put me in with him. He can't be alone through all of this."

"Damn, you really are as crazy as they say you are," the demon marvels at him and the sacrifice he proposes.

Dean just waits for her answer as the tears fall some more.

"No."

It's a simple, one word answer that feels like a punch to the gut for Dean.

"Why not!? You'd get both of us! Any crossroads demon out there wouldn't be fucking insane enough to turn this offer down!"

"I would seem quite crazy, wouldn't I?" she smiles slightly.

"Yeah, you would. So come on, coach! Put me in the game!" Dean shouts with his arms out to his sides, begging for her to just do it, take the deal.

"No."

"Fuck," Dean says to himself in an angry yet nervous voice as he washes a hand down his face to rid it of his sorrow.

"You don't get it, honey," the demon tells him. "If you go down there, sure, Sam will have someone. He'll be comforted that his hero big brother sacrificed himself to support him and keep him company through the torture… and you'd get the punishment you somehow think you deserve in that twisted and distorted head of yours. You'd feel like you were doing your life's work again. So… no."

"I don't understand…" Dean's pain-filled eyes look to her pathetically.

"The best case scenario is already in place, Dean. Sam's scared and alone and you're topside, torturing yourself worse than Lucifer ever could by thinking you failed."

A silence falls between the two, cut only by the sound of Dean's choked up state, his voice squeaking out a sob that he worked so hard to suppress.

"Move on, Dean," the crossroads demon advises him while turning her back to him. "I'm thinking it's probably best you not tell Lizzy about this meeting though. Might not take too kindly to your offer to me." She smirks before walking off and disappearing into the night.

Alone, the quiet early spring night still and warm, Dean's pissed. The best offer there was, he was ready to go with Sam and serve time with him, and it got him nowhere.

"You fucking bitch!" he shouts out from the depths of his being even though the demon is long gone by now. Another sob escapes as he puts his hands on his hips and hunches over on himself. Sam's never getting out. This was the one option he felt had any chance of working… and it didn't. Everything he's done in his life and he can't do the one, most important thing. He's worthless. He should be used to feeling this way by now but he isn't.

"You ok there, Winchester?" he hears a voice ask him, one that's clearly ill-intentioned by its inflection. Two men come out of the night shadows and walk towards him.

"Yeah, I mean I knew you were a pussy but crying in public?" the second one scoffs as his eyes flash black. "My how the mighty hath fallen."

"Jesus," Dean looks to them with full worry. He's weak, an emotional mess, a bit drunk, and a month out of his true element. He's not ready for a two versus one battle. "Guys, can I get a rain check here? S'been a rough day."

They both just smile and laugh a bit at his ridiculous request.

"Shit, alright," Dean says to them, his voice perking up a bit though still coated in defeat as he reaches into his belt to pull out Ruby's knife. He wasn't about to summon a crossroads demon naked. "Let's do this."

* * *

Kicking shut the front door behind her, Lizzy walks into the foyer of her apartment once her shift is finally over. She was able to get her bartending job back, the one she had before hitting the road permanently with Dean and Sam. Her boss told her that there would always be a place for her at his bar, especially since the sales were always up when she was there. Lizzy had this uncanny ability to get people to drink and be extra social… and therefore spend more. She took the compliment and the position without a second thought. She and Dean were really going to need an actual income.

It was hard leaving Dean alone during the nights when she had shifts. It made her nervous to not be able to monitor his drinking and his head space. He's been a bit better since they talked but that doesn't mean he's been easy. Dean's still difficult and moody. He still lapses and loses his cool, sometimes blaming her and saying harsh things to her. He may eat sometimes but it's still not enough. He's still trying to find his way through. And the whole ordeal, the knowledge of Sam and where he is, it still haunts him daily. It always will.

Doesn't mean she can take it for much longer. She lives day by day and hopes that every morning when she wakes up that she can keep this up and it'll be worth it in the end when he pulls through.

"Hey!" she yells up the stairs once she has her boots off. She picks up the white plastic bag she brought in with her and starts to run up the stairs, ready to see him. It's been a month since Sam's been gone and the adjustment has been rough. She just wants to know he's in ok enough shape after being alone.

"So I got the cook to be awesome again," she explains her slick ways, shouting to him in the living room where she assumes he is. She grabs a couple beers from the fridge and makes her way down the hall. Granted neither of them have eaten much in a long while but this time she hopes to bribe him with his favorite foods. Anything to get some energy in him. "He made me a couple bacon cheese burgers to go…" She rounds the corner, holding their very late night dinner up for him to see. "With onion rings… what the fuck!?"

The sight of him shocks her to her core and hear heart begins pounding fast.

"What the fuck did you do, Dean!?"

He's a beaten disaster. His right eye is nearly swollen shut, his fat bottom lip stained red and split wide open, and there's a trickle of blood coming from his hairline. And that was just his face.

"It's not that bad," he lies completely as he takes a gulp of whiskey down from the bottle in his hand. He winces with the movement and hunches over to his left side that he has an arm wrapped around with one of their dark blue bath towels pressed to it.

"What the hell did you do!?" Lizzy angrily demands again as she quickly drops her food and beverages by the doorway to jog over to him. She sits on the floor in front of him and starts to assess the damage, the medical expert version of Lizzy taking over instantly.

"Caught wind of something," Dean vaguely explains off with a total lie, groaning in pain when Lizzy pulls his hand away from his side. "Checked it out."

"Fuck me! What happened here!?" she asks when she gets an eyeful of the blood seeping into the towel that's over his torn, bloodied shirt. She lifts the fabric and sees the deep slice in his side.

"Knife," Dean tells her succinctly, keeping any and all details he can out of it. He didn't expect to come home to her tonight at all if everything went as he'd expected so explanations have not been properly prepared. This wasn't a part of the plan.

"Fuck," Lizzy angrily spits back, already getting a clear picture of what happened. "Don't fucking move." She points at him, letting him know she's not fucking around, and gets up.

"Yes ma'am," he returns, his smart ass mouth always quicker than his better judgment.

"Don't start with me, Dean! Thin fucking ice!" she shouts to him in warning while she's already halfway down the hall to the bathroom, hands balled up and teeth grinding the entire way.

Sitting patiently and drinking copious amounts of liquid pain killer to cope, he realizes how badly he screwed up. He can never explain to her that when he said a curt and cold goodbye to her when she left for work that it was supposed to be the last time he saw her. She'll never get over it and never forgive him.

"Cass doesn't live in your ass anymore, dude," Lizzy complains as she rejoins him. "He can't just pop by and heal you're incredibly stupid ass when you decide to be incredibly stupid."

"Well aware," Dean quips quickly as she lays out everything she grabbed on the coffee table.

"I'm gonna suggest you lose that witty kind of banter right about now if you don't want me to finish the job that whatever you went after started." She takes a washcloth and dips it into the bowl of warm water she brought out. "And what  _is_  the monster of the week?"

Dean keeps quiet as she grabs the bottom of his t-shirt and begins helping him out of it. She moves slowly and carefully, not wanting to add to his pain though she thinks maybe she should. He'd deserve it.

"Well?" she tries again as she tosses away the ruined clothing when he doesn't answer.

"Doesn't matter," Dean tells her. "I screwed up and I know it. Who cares what the fuck the thing I went after was?"

"So you went high up on the food chain then," she surmises with his attempts to dodge her question. She knows him too well. Looking at the bruising across his chest she realizes that this thing was a strong one. He looks tossed around. "Vamp?"

Dean sighs but doesn't answer.

"It was a vamp?" she keeps pushing as she starts to clear the blood from the wound in his side to get a better look.

"No," he says in a grunt of pain as she begins.

"I doubt it's a spirit or ghost," Lizzy keeps ticking off the options. She dips the cloth back into the bowl and rewets it, the water in the bowl turning pink with the amount of blood it cleaned up. "This thing knew how to fight."

Jaw clenched, Dean watches as she cleans his bleeding side. It's still seeping but at least it doesn't look as bad as he thought it would.

"Hold this here."

Dean listens, holding the cloth against his side as she asked him to while she continues to assess him. Without a word she presses along his ribs on the right side where a nasty, deep bruise is already forming. Dean winches and hisses with the pain.

"You're ribs aren't broken luckily. Just bruised real good. It hurt to breathe?"

"A little," Dean lies. It hurt like hell.

"Here," she says as she hands him a pill bottle of Vicodin. "Take one… but just one. You've been drinking and you know what happens when you drink and take more than one."

Doing as he's told, he washes a pill down with his booze and watches as she works, checking his lip, jaw and teeth, then his head, looking for any wound that needs to be closed in his hair, and then pressing gingerly around his eye to be certain nothing shifted.

"One of your bottom teeth is slightly loose," she informs him sadly. "Try to avoid it when you brush for a while so that you won't end up looking like a hick. Your eye is fucked but it'll heal. Nothing permanent. I'll stitch you closed and other than that you should be find, you lucky bastard."

"Thanks," Dean nods, his voice meek at best. He's embarrassed by his state and his needing her to help him while he's also letting her down.

Lizzy preps a needle but before she can start she sits back onto the floor with defeat. "What is this, Dean?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what the hell is this about?" Lizzy wonders. "Why are you going hunting alone? All you had to do was tell me and I would have come with you."

"This had nothing to do with you," Dean assures her, as it really didn't. He never truly considered her at all, not even once, through the pain of Sam's damnation and his attempt to save or at least help him. His brain wouldn't let him.

"Nothing ever seems to be about  _me_  lately, does it?" she challenges him. Her anger is crushing her. Her patience has been tested, her will has been abused by him, and once again he's forgotten all about her and what she'd think or feel if he got hurt. It's been a month of his selfish ways and she can't hack much more of it.

Clenching his jaw, Dean knows better than to answer that. There isn't a good answer to be had anyways.

Closing her eyes for a second to regain her composure, Lizzy grabs a bottle of saline solution and moves in to clean out his wound that has her a bit worried now that she's really seen it. Jesus, if he isn't up on his tetanus shots she's going to have to convince him to go to a doctor and right now that's  _never_  happening with his mental state. Son of a bitch.

"Just tell me what you went after at least," she requests without giving him much room to deny telling her.

"A demon." He gets it over with, tearing that band aid off and letting her know.

Her wide eyes stare at him with such disappointment that he has to wonder which hurts more; the letdown Lizzy clearly feels or the sliced open and bleeding side she's about to fix for him.

"I screwed up," Dean admits readily to her, wanting to take all responsibility once he sees what he's doing to her with his condition. Hell, he's actually starting to feel bad.

"Understatement," she fires right back to him as she douses the open wound with the mild liquid, it still hurting with the assault. She doesn't feel bad for causing him further physical pain, however. She's sure he's earned it for what he's done. This is the first time she's been fine with Dean's suffering and that alone scares her. She's never felt this kind of hatred towards him before.

"I know I shouldn't have done it," Dean continues on. "I knew it was wrong to go into anything like that alone." At least it was true that he did know it was wrong what he wanted to do.

"So why'd you do it?" she wonders, keeping her focus on her work now as she grabs the needle off the coffee table.

"Sammy wanted us out," Dean starts to explain, using his brother's name out loud for the first time in front of her since he's been gone. The word physically hurt to speak. "Especially you. I was keeping at least one of my promises to him. You're out for good."

Sighing as she pushes the needle through his skin, making Dean twitch a bit, she has to respect that a little. "You should have called Bobby, gotten a partner then. It's a fucking demon, Dean. Not some two-bit ghost act."

"That would have taken too long. They could have moved on by the time backup would have gotten here." He's so good at bullshitting that it sometimes surprises him.

" _They_?" Lizzy questions with further shock when he slips and lets her know it wasn't just one demon he encountered.

Maybe he's not so good.

"Yeah."

"Well, this just keeps getting better, doesn't it?"

"I'm sorry," Dean apologizes, his only option left.

"Isn't that your favorite phrase these days," she bites right back. "I swear I've never heard you say you were sorry so many times in one month in my life."

"Cut me some slack here, L," Dean finally fights back. There's only so much berating he can take lying down before he has to speak up and defend himself. He left to give his life and soul for a good cause. He was trying to fix things.

"Cut  _you_  some slack?" Lizzy asks with disbelieving anger, pausing her work to sit back and stare at his brazen ass.

"Yeah, me. My fucking brother is in a cage with the devil and you've been nothing but a bitch to me every day since he dove in there. What the hell do you want from me?"

"A bitch!?" she asks while looking to him, her eyes exhausted and completely defeated, she gives up. She can't keep this up anymore. She loves him, more than absolutely anything, but she can't continue to do this, to take this. She just can't keep doing this.

"Grade A," Dean confirms, tired of her nagging and pointing out his faults through his mourning. He can't take the nitpicking and constant mothering anymore from her. He goes for the gusto, the straight horrible name calling because even if he doesn't truly believe it he wants someone else to be hurting as much as he is. It's childish if he let himself look at his actions hard enough but he never does.

"I lost my brother too, Dean," she reminds him of how close she was to Sam also. "And what the hell do you want from  _me_ , huh?" She focuses back on his wound, desperate to stitch him up so she can get away from all that is her husband right now. She thought things were getting better with him but this proves that nothing at all has changed. If anything he's even worse than she estimated.

"I want you to understand… but you can't. You couldn't," Dean tells her. She couldn't understand him. He lost his brother, his flesh and blood, his one true friend in life. "You can't know what this is like."

When she peers up at him he just catches the sight of the tears cresting and falling down her cheeks.

"You're right," she cries through her sarcastic statement. "Dean, you are absolutely right. I could never,  _ever_  understand what it is to lose a sibling. I've  _never_  been through that."

And the misstep dawns on him. She  _has_  been through this. She's been through this exactly.

"You didn't even know she was your sister yet, L. And Sam is in that pit…" he starts to excuse his words but she doesn't let him.

"How do you know Lou isn't!?" she shouts up to him, dropping her work and letting the needle hang from his side. "For all I know she could be in hell and going through everything you did during  _your_  tour of duty. Or worse, she could be some black eyed piece of shit roaming around the Earth doing horrible things by now. How dare you say I couldn't understand!? How could you say that to me!?"

She stands up and backs away from him. "I know how bad it can be. And I know I haven't always been nice to you when I start to miss her more than most days… but this is too fucking much! You are way over the fucking line with me!"

Lizzy waits for him to respond but just like she expected he doesn't answer her.

"Jesus, you seriously have nothing to say to that!?" she shouts in his face. "I have mourned Lou's loss for years now but I have never been this reckless! And I have never,  _never_ treated you with such disrespect and lack of love! You've been awful to me for a month straight! I could never do that to you! You have been treating me like absolute shit and this…" she points to his overall appearance. "This is one step too fucking far!"

She grabs her keys that she'd tossed onto the coffee table when she got home.

"I'm not going to sit here and watch you slowly kill yourself anymore," Lizzy says in a shaking voice as she wipes her tears with the back of her hand. "And I'm not letting you treat me like I'm nothing to you anymore either. You want to hunt alone, be my guest. You want to find someone you can treat like shit day in and day out and they'll take it then fine… but it's not me, Dean. I can't do this anymore. I can't. And all this bullshit… it isn't you. I don't want  _any_  of this." And she leaves the room.

Shell shocked, Dean sits still on the couch unmoving as the front door slams shut with her anger. When the house remains quiet and he knows for certain that she isn't coming back into the apartment, he panics a bit.

She left him. She actually up and left him. She said she'd never do this, said she couldn't do this, and she left anyways. Lizzy walked right out the door and didn't look back.

Dean looks down at his side, the needle hanging free mid stitch, and doesn't know what to do. Everyone's gone. This is his biggest fear come to life. For years he knew this is where his life was going. Every person he's ever cared about has left him. When he met Lizzy that fear subsided a bit at first and then became a solid fact over time that he'd been wrong. He'd never be alone because she'd always be there. She vowed she would, pledged herself to him and married him, and now she left just like all the others.

Picking up the whiskey bottle on the coffee table, he chugs down more than he should but just doesn't care.

Now more than before he wishes that that bitch of a crossroads demon took his deal.

As the silence slowly envelopes him, Dean is forced to evaluate his life and how it's gone this past month specifically. It's been shit. He's been angry, sad, drunk, fearful, hopeless… and a jerk. He knows he's been difficult. Actually, the more he thinks about it, he's been downright impossible. And he just tried to damn himself for eternity and Lizzy would have been left alone. He was willing to leave her for Sam's sake and now he's ironically been left by her. Shit, what has he done?

So instead of freeing Sam in exchange for himself and instead of being sent into the cage to stand tall with his brother… he lost the only thing he had left. The only thing that has ever mattered to him besides Sam is gone. Out of reckless abandon comes Dean's total abandonment… and the walls start closing in on him.

Washing a hand down his face the truth becomes clearer. In fact it hits him out of nowhere like a massive Mack truck going a buck twenty. This really was all his fault. He pushed her too far. He acted too mean and cold. He called her names, he pushed her away, he didn't accept her help, he didn't offer an ounce of help to her… he ignored her, took advantage of her love, even physically crossed the line and used her for his own need while not thinking straight. That last one has him feeling about two inches tall as he considers how ashamed he is over it. He's disgusting for it. He's what he promised he'd never be to her.

Lizzy already dealt with on abusive man in her life. He's making it two.

Dean suddenly feels sick to his stomach.

For the first time ever Dean can understand why someone he needs and loves would leave him. He was the monster in this scenario and after being so sure that he'd never do such a thing, he's treated her like shit.

Suddenly his mood changes and a brand new fear truly sets in. He can't save Sam and now he knows just how much he needs Lizzy in his life if he has to deal with this loss. If he's going to get through this then she has to be there. She's the answer to all of this. He needs to get her. He can't let her go like this. This is his fault and he has to fix it…  _right now_.

Castiel watches Dean grasp the needle still hanging from his wound and start to hastily finish the work she started for him. He takes his hand off of Dean's head once he's given Dean his own sort of invisible revelation. Watching them this past month has been difficult to say the very least. They are nothing like they used to be and he could feel their bond weakening with every passing hour that Dean was tangled up in his sorrow. This could not stand. Dean and Elizabeth were supposed to be together, they had to be. Fearing for their future and the future of the world he took it upon himself to show Dean the err of his ways and make him work to fix it.

He did this for heaven, for his father and his father's plan… but really he knows why he stepped in. It's because he cares about these humans. His friends have earned some happiness and they are happiest when together. They'll never lose their bond as long as they're both alive, not if Cass can help it.

* * *

 


	6. June 28th (Part 2)

* * *

If crying were to become a professional sport, at this point Lizzy would be the reigning world champion.

For about the millionth time (or at least it's felt like for the millionth time) Lizzy sits and cries. She's been a depressed heap with the loss of Sam for this past month, but right now she isn't actually focused on him. She's focused on her relationship with Dean and this is the first time she's been distracted enough to put Sam on the back burner.

A while back she opened up to Dean about her past, about how she had gotten herself into an abusive relationship. She'd been broken down by her ex, convinced she wasn't worthy of him, and pushed around… literally. Lizzy found her inner strength and left him, vowing to never let herself become that weak and pathetic ever again. That's why she had to leave her own apartment tonight. Once again she was quickly becoming that exact thing she never wanted to be.

Dean did that to her. Her husband did that to her and she's so pissed it could kill her. He's been awful, absolutely awful, and she never saw this coming. Never have they been so disconnected, so cold, and so off. Her heart just couldn't take seeing their relationship shatter piece by piece anymore.

So here she is, sitting in the middle of the one bed in her shitty motel room she ran to out of habit. Spinning her wedding rings around her finger and sitting in silence, she just lets the tears flow for once. At home she held them in as much as she could for his sake. Now she needs to let it go before she goes crazy.

What the fuck does this all mean? Dean's been so far away that she can't read him. He's barely touched her, hardly looked at her, and scarcely spoken to her since Sam's been gone. Until this minute she's not yet let herself recognize her biggest fear through all this. Lizzy's terrified that he doesn't love her anymore.

She didn't think that was possible. He's always been so caring, so seriously protective of her that if anyone else ever treated her this way he'd kill them in a second flat. Yet here they are. She still loves him with every fiber of her being, whether she should at this point of not, but from what he's shown her she has to question if it's returned. Soul mates don't go through this, do they? They were supposed to always love each other, weren't they? She could have sworn that was how it went for soul mates.

The knocking on the door pulls her out of her misery.

_L?_

That's sure as shit Dean's voice. He came for her. That must mean he still cares, right?

_Lizzy, please… can you open the door?_

Wiping her eyes clear, she gets up out of bed and walks to the door. With her hand on the door knob, she stops herself.

"No."

_L, come on. The guy next door keeps looking at me weird from his window and he keeps licking his lips. It's creepy. Just let me in._

"No," Lizzy continues to deny him. "Not if it's gonna be more of the same with you. I'm not letting that happen anymore."

_It won't, I promise. Just let me in._

Sniffling and wiping her eyes one last time, Lizzy breathes in deep and unlocks the door. She pulls it open.

They come face to face to with each other and both actually look at the other for the first time in far too long. Lizzy sees a physically broken man who has completely lost who he is. Dean sees a mentally broken woman that he barely recognizes.

"Come in," she chokes out and shrugs her shoulders. With an eye roll she walks away from the door and retakes her seat on the bed.

Dean closes and locks the motel room door behind him. Once he turns back around and looks at her, her frame looking so small all alone on that bed, he shifts awkwardly on his feet as he doesn't know what to do now. All he knew was that he couldn't let her just walk out. He couldn't risk her not ever coming back. Not his Lizzy. But he didn't plan out anything past finding her.

"I doubt you figured out where I am just to stand there," Lizzy tells him after he's quiet for too long. "What do you want?"

"To apologize." His tone is just plain sad and frightened.

"You've already done that enough," Lizzy says, her voice cracking and her gaze set on her hands in her lap. "At least once a day for weeks."

"But I mean it," Dean assures her, stepping a little closer to her. "I really am sorry."

"For what?" she pushes him, wanting to know what it is he's actually remorseful over. There are so many things he should feel bad about and she needs to know he's aware of them all.

"For all of it," Dean tells her instantly.

"Not good enough."

"What?" he asks, shocked that she's rejecting his apologies.

"That's not good enough anymore," she says, the tears streaming again. "A blanket apology for everything you've done ain't gonna cut it, Dean. Tell me everything you're sorry for. I have to hear it all."

Dean opens and shuts his mouth, his voice failing him when his brain can't process everything he's supposed to say here.

"You can't do that, can you?" Lizzy sadly says and finally looks over to him. "Do you even know what you've done to me?"

"Yes," he answers, his chin quivering with the thought of everything. "I know."

"Then say it."

Washing a hand down his face, he tries to compile his thoughts so that he doesn't leave a damn thing out. He steps closer to her but not much. He feels he has to earn back the privilege of being near her again.

"I was mean," he starts at the top of his long laundry list. "Really mean. And I said things to you that I never…" His voice cuts off as his shame chokes him up. "I didn't mean a single thing. None of it."

"So I'm not a bitch?" Lizzy bites in return.

"No," he quickly tells her, stepping forward one more step. "You never have been. And you're not overbearing or annoying or anything else I said. You never have been anything but caring and so good and… and perfect. Even if I didn't deserve that. I definitely didn't."

Lizzy nods and looks back down at her rings on her fingers.

"And I… didn't mean… what I said about Lou."

She closes her eyes and more tears fall with the sound of her sister's name.

"I should have just trusted you from the get," he continues. "You've been here before, you know exactly what this feels like and what I'm going through."

"I sure do," Lizzy whispers.

"And I could have been so much better off by letting you help me through this. You know from experience and I just rejected you because I was hurting too much. I felt like I should feel the pain. I can't get past…" Dean sighs when he gets frustrated with his inability to fully articulate everything he wants to. "I'm a stubborn jackass and it'll kill me… and it'll kill us."

Bringing her legs into her chest, Lizzy balls up and rests her chin on her knees. She still won't look at him.

"You have been so good to me and I have been so… so awful," Dean tells her, his own eyes watering over. "It's like I could hear myself say these things to you and I knew they were fucked but… they came out anyways. I never meant them. Not a single word. I just couldn't get myself to stop." The pause lingers in the motel air as he prepares to bring up something that he wishes he could pretend didn't happen. "And what I did to you… in the middle of the night… weeks ago…." He stops himself from saying it all. It hurt so damn much to really recognize what he did to her that he struggles to actually say it since saying it makes it real. "I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to feel something besides pain and I used you in the worst way possible. That is  _not_  what I wanted to happen. I think about it rationally now and… Fuck. I abused you."

"Dean…"

"No, I did. That's exactly what I did. You already dealt with one asshole in your life. I'm just another one now, another asshole in your life that takes advantage of who you are and how awesome you are. And I said, I  _promised_ , I would never,  _never_  do that to you. L, what I did… I just... I just short of r…."

"Don't say it," Lizzy stops him. She knows the word he was about to use to describe his actions the night he's referring to and it wasn't right. She refuses the idea that what he did deserves that horrible label. If she wanted to stop him she would have. "That's not what you did so don't you dare say it."

Dean nods and keeps down his sorrow to continue on. "Lizzy, I'm sorry. Sam's gone and I let myself get… so lost in it. I avoided you and was selfish. I never tried to help you when I know this hurts you too. I said things that…." He sighs with how heavy it all is. "Shit, you don't deserve this. You're too good for me and for all this bullshit. I don't know why you were made to be so much better than me but you are. You're a way better person. This whole deal isn't fair to you… and maybe you  _should_  leave me. For good."

Lizzy sighs with her eyes closed. "I can't leave you."

"I'd understand it if you did," Dean assures her. "Wouldn't even fight you over it." He wouldn't have a single hard feeling if she wanted to up and leave him in her dust. Not one. He blew it yet again and he's most definitely out of second, third and fourth chances with her. "You should just run… just get the fuck away from me for good so I can't hurt you like that again."

Lizzy stares up at him for a minute before patting the mattress next to her. Dean listens and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, keeping his distance as he isn't sure she'd be ok with being that close to him right now.

"Dean, I've told you before and I'm gonna tell you again. I'm not leaving you. And I'm not a quitter. I just can't live like we've been. I  _can't_ ," she tells him, her hands wringing themselves out with nerves and fear. "I love you more than… seriously, more than I ever thought possible to love someone. I love you far more than I love my own self even after all this. I can't be without you and I promised I wouldn't. But you have to change. You have to be better to me. I do get it, I really do. But Dean, you can't keep blaming me. I can't handle it anymore. I'm not the thing that took Sam away from you…"

"I know that," Dean tells her. "But the thing that did take him isn't here and I let myself take it all out on you. You're the only thing I have left and the only thing I had in front of me to pin it all on. I never meant to, to let it turn into this and I am the worst of the worst for that. I'm… ashamed. And I know I'm not worthy of your time, not anymore."

He turns his head away from her so that she didn't see him succumb to his guilt and grief. A hand over his eyes, he starts to sob. She really is a far better person than him and it seems just so uneven. Why would God and the angels let her be linked to someone like him? He hates himself right now.

"Just please,  _please_ … don't leave me," Dean begs in a terrified tone while facing away from her still. "I can't do this without you and I hate how badly I need you but I need you so fucking much. I'm sorry for all of it.  _All of it_. If you can find a way to forgive me I'll spend the rest of our lives making it up to you, I swear. I'll do anything. Please, L. Please … don't leave me alone here. You're everything to me."

It crushes her to see him this broken, so broken he can't bring himself to look at her. She doesn't remember it ever being this bad with him. Not once.

"Without you I… I know I won't get through this. I can't. I'm only as strong as you are."

Lizzy, knowing how ironically weak she's being and how much she might regret it, scoots over to him and wraps her arms around her husband. He turns and buries his head in her neck like he always does when she holds him and the familiar yet unseen in a month move makes her very cautiously hopeful.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers to her one last time.

"I know you are," Lizzy answers back, completely believing that he regrets it all.

"Never again," he promises. "I will never treat you like that again. Never. Never."

"Oh I know you won't," Lizzy tells him sternly. "Because if you do I will  _not_  take it. I will kick your ass into next week if you ever treat me like that again."

He hugs her tighter with that threat, the one that she had to deal him, and tells her she won't have to follow through.

"I can't believe you haven't yet."

"Me neither."

"You can still do that if you want," Dean offers, knowing he's fully earned an ass kicking.

"I think the demons did a good enough job," she returns, pushing him away from her a bit. "You still need to be sown up?"

"I finished it," Dean tells her as he looks into her eyes, reveling in the ability to still do this. She should have left him and he shouldn't be able to be this close to her anymore. If she were smart she would have seriously left for good. He's lucky she's dumb enough to try again.

"Great," she sarcastically says as the thought alone worries her. "It's a mess, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Dean admits, not having done the good job that she could have done. She was good at stitching people up. He sucks at it, always has.

"Let me see," Lizzy asks of him as she gets up from the bed. Leaning over the edge of the mattress she lifts his shirt up followed by the corner of the hastily taped in place gauze over it. "Oh Jesus," she complains when she sees it. "This is no good, Dean. You're still bleeding."

"I rushed through it," he tells her. "I had to go get to my girl before she dumped my ass. She's way more important than a cut."

"Not if you bleed out," Lizzy grumbles, pressing the gauze back in place and grabbing his hand. "Let's go home. I gotta fix that." She pulls him to his feet and heads for the door to check out.

"Hey," he calls to her and pulls her back by their interlocked hands, making her face him. "Thank you. For not giving up on me for as long as you did."

She looks at him with a blank face for a moment, not ready to have heard those words. Thank you was not something Dean could easily say. He's really trying here.

"Yeah. Only took a month for you to break me after more than three years," she quietly says and lets go of his hand. She walks out first, no baggage to grab since she left in a rush with only her keys. She's going to need to find a way to fully work past this and he has to prove to her that he won't be the asshole he's been. She needs time.

Dean sighs when he realizes how hard the road ahead is going to be with her, made rough and ragged by his own actions. He could care less though. He'd spend the rest of his life making it up to her if that's what it took, he meant that. Becoming so comfortable and so used to having her put up with him for so long, much longer than just the past month, he's forgotten that without her he's nothing. Dean has to have Lizzy. That's just a fact of his life.

He's not going to live without her. And he's certainly going to treat her exactly the way she deserves to be treated from here on out. She's his everything, especially now that Sam's gone, and he'll never let himself forget that again.

Standing in the corner of the room and smiling as he watches Dean close the door, Castiel feels a whole lot better. They've been such an easy task for him so far that this blip on the radar unnerved him. He remembers hearing the other angels speak about how difficult it was to keep Mary and John together. They fought all the time. They didn't even like each other when they'd first met. But, with a lot of work, their love thrived while it could.

Once Dean and Lizzy met, Castiel volunteered to be their watch. He'd been with Elizabeth her whole life already and he wasn't prepared to part with her anyways. He was also worried at first about this Dean Winchester fellow who just didn't feel like a good, positive choice for his girl. Granted he was destined to house his powerful older brother, but that didn't mean he was a well behaved and moral man. Castiel didn't want the new guy to have a negative influence on his Elizabeth but the angel's nerves were calmed quite quickly when he realized that Elizabeth was actually, for the most part at least, the one changing him for the better, not Dean corrupting his Elizabeth.

He's been proud of them, sticking together through all the difficulties of their lives. They fought for their relationship the whole way and luckily for them they almost always saw eye to eye. This was the first time in three years he's had to step in and clean up after one of their mistakes… strictly relationship wise that is. Alas, not marriage is perfect and bump-free.

As proud of Elizabeth as he is for standing up for herself he knew he had to fix this and it was extremely simple to do. All he needed to do was remind Dean that without his wife he's a lost cause. It is certainly true. Dean may be an exceptional example of a human being overall but he needs Elizabeth. Once Dean remembered this Castiel was sure that the man would mend everything.

A huge sigh of relief and Castiel leaves them. He has a much bigger, much more difficult and highly daunting task to attend to and he has a sneaking suspicion that his two favorite people will surely find their way through and return to what they were meant to be in no time.

Castiel realizes he must get them fully back on track with their true path. He hopes to mend Dean and Lizzy's wounds by giving them the ultimate gift. If they had the one thing back that's causing their problems and sadness then maybe the couple can get back on the road to fulfilling their destinies.

The angel has some heavy duty work to do.

* * *

"Shirt off," Lizzy tells him as she tosses her keys onto the coffee table once more. She takes a towel from the small table and folds it into quarters as he pulls off his t-shirt. "Lay down this time."

Dean follows everything she asks of him and without complaint or comment. He's going to change. He had his month to be a dick and mourn and in the process he nearly destroyed his relationship with his wife. He'll keep quiet for now, knowing he has to prove himself to her. He owes her that.

He gets onto the big comfy couch and lays back, his head propped on the arm at one end. She slips the towel underneath his side where he's been cut. Lizzy carefully pulls up the red stained patch of gauze to reveal that his stitch job was worse than she'd thought. Sighing loudly, she picks up the small, pointed medical scissors to undo his mess.

"Is it as bad as I think it is?" Dean asks her, just to break the silent tension he felt growing in the room once she's sterilized the scissors in rubbing alcohol.

"No," she answers, cutting free and pulling his first sloppy stitch from his skin. "It's worse."

"Damn it," he quietly laments without the usual bite in his tone. "Sorry I made your job harder."

Lizzy shrugs her shoulders and brushes it off. Working on pulling the other five loops free, she moves quick. She doesn't want to have to do this any longer than necessary. The conflict playing out between all her emotions right now just makes her a whirl of confusion and she needs a few minutes of calm and solitude.

Once done, she looks up at him to warn him to prepare. She has to clear out his wound again and start from scratch. They lock eyes and she swears she's looking at a different man than the one she's been living with for a month. His green eyes aren't darkened and hollow anymore. His expression is void of anger and disgust. He kind of looks like the guy she married again.

Lizzy reaches to her side to pull an ice pack out of the medical supplies bag she had brought out earlier. She pops the inner bag and shakes until it's cold before handing it over to him.

"Your eye is nearly swollen shut," she tells him.

The corner of Dean's mouth twitches with it's want to smile at her for caring but he stops it before it can develop. Bringing the cold pack to his eye, Dean uses his still uncovered, good one to continue to watch her.

"Heads up," Lizzy warns as she pops open the saline solution. She clears out the wound once more and Dean doesn't make a peep. She dabs it with gauze to get rid of the solution and blood that came out and preps the now sterilized needle once more. Getting the feeling of being watched, she looks up to see Dean's free eye still staring her down. "You're making me feel weird."

"How?" Dean questions, not understanding.

"You're full on staring me down," she explains, grabbing the pill bottle of Vicodin and taking one out.

"So?"

"So… it's making me feel weird." She hands over the pill and the half full bottle of whiskey. The previous pill is probably gone from his system by now.

"Since when has me looking at you made you feel weird?" Dean has to ask as he downs the pain killer.

Lizzy pauses before answering. "Since it's been weeks that you've even looked at me at all."

Dean wrinkles his brow with the sting of her words. She's right though. He hasn't looked at her at all. If he had he'd see how thin she is, how tired and completely worn down she is. His girl looks destroyed from the inside out. A lot of that is his fault right along with his brother's.

She begins her first stitch in the silence.

"I should have been looking," he admits, cutting into the thick silence.

Lizzy nods and continues on.

"And I should have noticed how hard this has been on you," he keeps talking.

"Life's a bitch," Lizzy brushes off, just looking to get this over with and get some time to think everything over. All she had was the short ride back from the motel in the Mustang to think and it wasn't nearly enough time.

"You're too thin." It's the first thing that struck him once he took the time to really see her. She's clearly not eating enough still. Maybe it's hypocritical to be concerned with that since he's been wasting away himself but he's not used to this version of her. She looks weak. His wife is  _not_  weak. Hell, after all this he's pretty sure she's the strongest woman on the freakin' planet.

"Right back at ya'," she responds, reminding him that she's not the only one looking a bit skinny these days.

"Yeah," he concurs. Lying there shirtless he looks down at himself and agrees with her completely. His ribs are clear as day and he's never been this small in his life. Hunting kept him strong and of a certain broad, intimidating stature but not moving away from his couch and bed for a month along with starving himself has made him shrink down considerably.

As Dean thinks over the current condition of he and his wife, Lizzy works silently and efficiently. After the day they've had together she's ready to call it a night. She got home after midnight from a long shift as it was and now the sun's starting to come up. She's exhausted.

A few more minutes and he's sewn shut. It took a good twelve stitches to close up the gash in his side and fix the further damage he caused on his own. It's a mess and it'll surely leave another harsh scar on his skin, but he'll live.

"Done," she announces as she tapes the antibiotic gauze pad in place. She then immediately backs away and starts to clean up her supplies.

"Thanks," he says, sitting up and taking the ice pack off his face.

"No problem," she answers back without any real emotion.

"I mean it," Dean reinforces, standing and reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. She stops and looks to him. "Thank you."

Her face showing her conflict, she simply says, "You're welcome."

Going back to cleaning up, Lizzy packs everything away and Dean moves quickly. He walks to the plastic bag that sits by the doorway of the room, the one she dropped when she first saw him.

"Hey, uh," he starts with a little hesitation. "You should eat something."

Freezing with his words, she peers sharply over to him with wide eyes. "What?"

"I can heat this stuff up," he offers. "I think you should eat."

She continues to stare at him with shock.

"Are you not hungry…?" he starts to pry but she stops him.

"I'm just a little thrown," she tells him, putting the last of her med supplies in the black bag she's always kept them in. She then stands up with it in her hands. "You haven't asked me anything like that in so long."

"Well… I'm asking now," Dean says meekly and with hope.

Her heart jumps at the question. "It's almost five in the morning."

"And you went to college," he tries to justify it for her. "I'm sure you've eaten a few burgers in the wee hours of the morning before."

Not being able to say she hasn't, Lizzy nods slightly to agree.

"So… what do you say, L?" he looks to her with his hopeful eyes. "Have dinner with me?"

Lizzy doesn't answer at first, just stands there looking at him. She had not thought that he would this quickly start trying. She figured it'd take a few days for him to get where he needed to be to start making up for his mistakes but nope. Dean was trying right away. He couldn't wait. She's sure now that he understands how bad he's been to her because he is definitely scared and desperate.

"Ok," Lizzy answers quietly and watches as Dean fights back the smile that his relieved mind wants to plaster across his face.

"Ok," he gratefully echoes and heads to the kitchen to try and salvage their meal.

Together they ate what they could manage to fit into their shrunken over time stomachs. The exhaustion hit hard as they could begin to hear their neighbors getting into their cars and heading to work. Without cleaning up the takeout containers, they make their way to their bedroom.

Slipping into bed right after him, Lizzy reaches up to turn off the lamp on the night stand. She settles in like she has for weeks. She faces away from Dean while giving him his space and rests on her side, feeling just so happy to be relaxing in her bed. Today was long and emotional. Sleep is now beckoning to her and she's most certainly following.

She inhales sharply when Dean's arm hooks lightly around her waist. He moves in behind her and presses his front right against her back. If she'd been standing up she might have fainted with the gesture.

"I meant it," Dean whispers to her, his voice completely sincere. "Thank you for still trying."

This one hits her right in the heart. She isn't sure if it was about what he said or how he said it, but it makes her believe that he means it. Things are going to change.

"I love you, L," Dean adds in quietly, not able to help himself. "I'll always love you."

Lizzy lets a lone tear of sheer hope and absolute love seep into the pillow under her head.

"I love you too," she hushes back as she covers her arm over his, her fingers weaving into his and holding tightly. "So much."

* * *

 


	7. June 28th (Part 3)

* * *

Speeding. So fast. Faster than she thought was possible. It's hot. Blazing, scorching hot air surrounds her as she hurtles at speeds that should disintegrate her. She's diving downward, lower and lower, her body nearly cooking with the heat. She feels anxious and determined. She feels like what she's doing is wrong but she doesn't care. She's going to do what she must.

The screams then reach her ears. She can hear the agonizing yells of a tortured soul. The sound is devastating and awful… and it's so familiar. She knows this voice very well but with the pain in it, with the animalistic and base horror within its tone, she can't quite place it.

She comes to a stop. Her body no longer hurling itself through space and time, she can't see anything specific. Just fire, blood, chains, torture, and a rack with torn soul on it in quick flashes but nothing comes into true focus. Instead everything feels like a cheesy montage of what a film student would make to depict hell.

Her heart is pounding with fear and adrenaline. Her determination is true and she knows she's here for a reason. She just doesn't know the reason. It's important and justified, but it's still just a mystery to her.

And then everything changes. A flash of bright white light, blinding her eyes. She hears what sounds like a bomb going off. The explosion, the light, the burst… she's rocked sharply out of her deep sleep in an instant.

"Fuck! Oh my God!"

Inhaling deeply, back shooting straight up from her lying position, Lizzy wakes with a shocking start. Huffing hard as the panicked feeling hits her entire body, her eyes are wide as she sits there, hands clutching her chest.

"L?" Dean's voice calls to her as he wakes with her sudden movement. Seeing her posture so ridged and her shoulders rising sharply with each breath puts him in full alarm. He sits up next to her, wincing with the pain of moving so quickly with his injuries, and stares at her with strong concern. "What happened?"

"I don't know," she says with utter confusion as she tries to sort through her clouded brain. Whatever just woke her up is completely gone. She can't remember a damn thing that just happened.

"Nightmare?" Dean tries, his hand on her shoulder as his worry grows the longer he watches her state.

"Maybe," she tells him, her heart still pounding as everything starts to finally subside slowly.

"What was it?" he questions, his arms around her instantly. He may have been nearly absent this past month but he said it would change. He's doing all he can to be there for her now and prove he's better than what he's shown her. Holding her tight, he knows that whatever this is it's big. She's shaking so hard.

"Shit, I don't know," she says, trying to figure it out. "I just… something like… punched me awake."

"Punched?" he asks with sheer confusion.

"Yeah, not like a physical punch, but… fuck, I don't know." She shakes her head while at a loss. "Something's wrong."

"You feel sick or anything?" Dean fusses, cupping her jaw and turning her face to his. He searches her eyes for anything to help figure this out but comes up short.

"No, nothing like that," she assures him. "It's… something's happening. Or maybe happened just now."

"L, this sounds like the kinda shit you used to get with Cass all the time," Dean points out to her, her link to the angel always having a certain effect on Lizzy. When things are off, especially with Cass or even him as he is her soul mate, she knows without even really knowing. She can feel it. This seems similar. "You want to try and call him?"

Lizzy looks at him with unsure worry. "He's gone, though."

"Maybe, but maybe not," he points out. "We haven't tried to get to him since… the past month." He doesn't even attempt to mention Sam. "Try it out. He might be able to help."

Sighing, she knows he's right. What the hell… it's worth a try.

"Castiel… can you hear me?" she asks him with her head bowed and eyes closed, concentrating on sending her voice out to him. "I know it's been a while but we need you, dude. I need to talk to you. Something's happened."

They both wait in the silence as they sit up in bed, looking around the room half-expecting their trench coat clad friend to show up. He doesn't.

"Come on, Cassie," Lizzy tries once more. "I know you can hear me. Please. We could use you. I felt something weird and I think it was you. I just want to know that you're ok. I'm worried about you."

They wait another few seconds and all they get is more silence in the room.

"I'm telling you, Dean. He's done down here," she tries to further excuse the angel's lack of presence after she tries to pray to him.

"I was kinda hoping he wasn't," Dean admits sadly. He did miss his only real friend he's made in his life.

"Me too," Lizzy agrees. She'd gotten so used to having him around, protecting her and making sure they were always safe... along with his innocence, naivety, and his loyalty to his friends.

"But you're ok," Dean bright-sides the whole thing. "It was probably nothing, like a vivid dream that you can't remember."

"Hmm," Lizzy just hums, not ready to resign the moment to nothing significant. She may not remember it but it was something huge and something important. She can feel it.

"You've had nothing but nightmares for a month now," he further points out. "Probably just another one."

"How did you know that?" Lizzy asks with surprise that he even noticed such a thing about her.

"I may have been an ass but I still have eyes."

Lizzy, still uneasy with the whole thing, lets it go. "Fine." With another sigh she lays back down, Dean going with her. She lies on her back and Dean moves into her side, his arm around her waist as his head rests on her shoulder. She hugs him tightly, her arms circling his neck as she starts to really calm down. The moment is finally passing.

They had a hard enough night without this weirdo moment as it is. Dean's just glad that this time he's paying attention and is helping her. It felt good to support her again.

"Whatever it was it couldn't have been too big," Dean tries his best to explain. "You'd still be feeling something if it was, right?"

"Yeah," Lizzy hesitantly agrees.

As Dean drops an innocent kiss on her cheek he has to wonder why he denied himself this connection for so long. It just feels so good to be right where he is, especially when  _she_ needs  _him_  for once.

"Just get some sleep, L," Dean tries to calm her as he runs his fingers across her stomach soothingly. "You're exhausted."

"Mmhmm," Lizzy hums her agreement as she's already half asleep, the heavy exhaustion of the overly emotional day taking its toll. She exhales with relief as she easily gets back into what was once normal to them. She feels better about their future already as Dean finds himself settling in next to her, a few painful groans as he shifts to avoid putting pressure on his injuries. This felt like what they used to be and if she could find that again she might make it through the loss of Sam in one, unbroken piece after all.

* * *

This is wrong. So very wrong.

The first time Castiel did this he had an army of angels at his back. They all laid siege to hell together, fighting and clawing their way through the land of the damned to reach the object of their ultimate saving. All went according to set plan and the righteous man was saved with minimal heavenly casualties, even if it was a tooth and nail fight.

This time around was drastically different. Castiel was completely alone. Heaven was at war, Raphael's army was bigger and Castiel couldn't risk the loss of any of his few allies on his side for a task that wasn't ordered by his father. Dean's saving was an act prophesized in the Good Book. The saving of Samuel Winchester, harborer of the Morning Star and absolute living abomination, was not so prophesized nor condoned by any member of the heavenly host.

But Sam is his friend. And so are Dean and Elizabeth. Time has shown that Castiel has become a being that values friendship and loyalty much more than anything else, even his father's word.

Castiel prides himself on understanding the difference between right and wrong. Or at least he knows he has a better grasp of the concept than most angels as he's been able to go rogue and see things for what they are, not for what he's always been told they are. Castiel knows that Sam's soul being condemned to the pit for eternity is wrong. The man showed more courage than any other human ever has and Sam's paid his penance if one were to as the angel. He deserves to be out.

So with much careful contemplation on his part pair with the sudden disappearance of his father, Castiel decided to do something very risky and, as Dean would put it, freakin' insane. He dove into Lucifer's cage head first to extract Sam.

What he found there horrified him. He thought he'd seen the worst when he located to Dean in hell, razor in hand as he tortured a soul laid out before him and did it with a quite happy smile on his face. The image still chills him to the bone when he thinks about it but this time… it was different. Sam was barely even there. His body carved and torn in ways even Castiel couldn't quite comprehend. The man was unrecognizable.

Castiel knows for certain now that his brother is truly a monster.

But now, as Castiel stands just feet from the freed man, he has to wonder if all went accordingly. Sam cannot see him, he's remained cloaked from his view as he doesn't want the hunter to know it was he that did this, but he doesn't get the same feel, the same vibe from him that he used to. Sam always felt heavy, deep, always thinking and always a bit dark even if he was mostly bright, good light. Right now Castiel feels… nothing. He feels no hallmarks of the man he once called his ally. In fact, he's sure that Sam is left incomplete. This man is missing… something.

Sam looks around Stull Cemetery, the same one he fell into the open door of the cage in, and has a face of confusion. With no visible reason for his return he's obviously baffled and at a loss, but as he pats down his body, sure that he's all there, he sighs with utter relief.

Castiel continues to study Sam carefully as he searches the area, looking for any signs or clues for his return and what caused it. The area isn't blown apart like Dean's place of resurrection. This resurrection was much different. Sam is left with nothing to go on.

And then another worry hits Castiel hard when he can hear Elizabeth praying to him and asking for help. How could he forget? She still has that link to him through her Nephilim blood lines. She can feel when things go wrong or when something big happens. She had to have felt this one. What a mess he's created.

Castiel ignores his charge's pleas for help. He told them he was returning to heaven and that's where he's going to stay in their eyes, at least for now. Once they've completed God's will he will be back to help them. Just not until then. They need this time alone.

And unfortunately, as Sam meanders through the cemetery, Castiel is left with one scary thought. Yes he has done well with bringing Sam back but… has he brought  _all_  of Sam back?

* * *

 


	8. July 6th

* * *

He's running. He doesn't know where to, but he's running as fast as his legs will possibly take him. For whatever reason Sam found himself alone when he became whole again this time around. He wasn't on the rack, he wasn't in a made up scenario that was meant to break his heart, he was just there. Standing still. On his own.

So he panicked with the freedom he hasn't seen in years. And then he ran.

Sam's no idiot. He's well aware that this is probably a trick, another awful and devious trick that Lucifer is playing on him. It's a new one, so at least the monotony of the day in and day out torture he's become used to is finally changing up a bit, but still. The unknown is always scary.

He knows running will get him nothing in the long run. This is Lucifer's playground. Sam could never find a single nook that the demented evil one couldn't reach him in. Yet at the same time what was he supposed to do? Stand in one place, wait to be torn apart? No fucking way. Sam doesn't give up and even after years and years of this shit he's still fighting back when he can. He told Bobby he would.

Now here he is, running hard as his legs burn along with his lungs and he races down the long, bland corridor of dark, musty cement. If he keeps going, keeps running, maybe he can stave off the torture for a little while today. If he's fleeing he can't be hurt, right? If he just keeps….

SMACK!

Sam runs into something solid. His body, having been going its fastest, flies shoulder first into something and it sends him backwards onto his ass. Tumbling across the floor a bit, he clutches his shoulder once he comes to a stop and he looks up at what he's collided with.

"Shit… Adam?" Sam awes as he sees his half-brother doubled over on his feet, clutching his chest from the impact.

"Sam!?" Adam questions right back, his eyes wide with the surprise of seeing his lost brother there.

"Oh my God," Sam says with shock to find his half-brother there in front of him. He stands up on his feet but keeps his distance from Adam. One can only assume with how everything went down Sam isn't one of Adam's favorite people. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fucking perfect," Adam spits out as he starts to stand a little taller while stretching out his chest after the run in. "How do I know it's really you?"

He asks a valid question. Down in the pit reality is so contorted and confusing that there really is no reality. There's no way to know if the person in front of them is actually that person or an illusion meant to ruin them.

"Uh, guess you're gonna have to trust me," Sam says to him, not knowing a good way to prove his identity.

The two just stare at each other for a time, evaluating the other and not knowing what to say. With all they've seen and been through what the fuck is there to say. There aren't words good enough for it all.

"Adam, I am so sorry," Sam starts to apologize.

"No," Adam shakes his head and refuses Sam's words. "You didn't bang my mom and make me a part of the Bizarro Cleavers. I've had more than enough time to think down here and as much as I'd love to… I don't blame you, Sam."

Sam just nods, understanding. He's a bit relieved to know Adam isn't blaming him or Dean for all this.

"Plus, you and Dean actually tried to help," Adam points out. "You came back for me. That's more than most would ever do in the situation, especially for someone they barely even knew."

"You're family." Sam shrugs with the obvious explanation… or obvious to him at least.

"You still didn't know me."

"Doesn't matter," Sam answers right back. It didn't. Family is family. Winchesters don't ever underestimate the power of being family.

"Well it's nice that you still have those family values, though I can't say I wear the name Winchester with much pride," Adam remarks angrily.

Sam doesn't respond to that. He himself still wears his name like a badge of honor. Maybe he shouldn't since it's been the thing that's caused him all the heartache and pain in his life… but his family is an extraordinary one and he still holds them in high regard. He still loves them and would do anything for them.

"So where the hell are we?" Sam finally asks, taking stock of the situation.

"Not a fucking clue," Adam answers as they both look around with utter bewilderment. It's dark and empty, looks almost like an endless and large concrete corridor. "I was just all of a sudden… alone. Ha. I haven't been alone in years. Not sure what that means."

"Me neither," Sam says with clear worry as he looks around and starts to rationalize.

"Not sure I want to know." Adam sighs heavily and forces himself not to think too hard about it.

"Huh. If you came from that direction," Sam tries to rationalize as he points down the way Adam came running from. "And I came from the other way…"

"Then there's nowhere left to go from here," his half-brother catches on, realizing this hallway just leads from one man's hell to the other. There's no escape to be found.

"So who's gonna get here first, your warden or mine?" Sam asks with sarcasm and a little fear underlying his words.

"God I hope yours," Adam answers while rubbing his eyes, exhausted.

"Not sure you want that," Sam warns, knowing the powers Lucifer holds over his victims.

"Can't be worse than Michael." Adam's torn and worn voice has a sad, defeated sound to it. "And at least it would change things up for once."

"Damn it," Sam complains, hands on his hips as he turns in a circle, looking for something,  _anything_  he can do.

"Maybe we should just… stay."

Sam whips around to look at Adam with surprise. Stay? Be sitting ducks? Fuck that!

"What?" Adam asks when he sees Sam's dislike for the idea all over his face. "Where are we gonna go, huh? Both ways leads to misery. And right now, they clearly don't know where we are… or maybe they just don't care. I'm not messing with this." He takes a seat against the cold corridor wall and relaxes for the first time in forever. "I'm not being torn apart or fucked with or forced to talk to my dead mother again. This is the best thing that's happened to me in years. I say we stay and enjoy it while we can."

Staring at Adam a beat Sam realizes that what Adam says is the most logical, rational thing he's heard in so long. They were being left alone. This is what Sam would consider heaven right now. He drops down on the other side of the hallway facing the brother he barely knows and takes a deep breath. Nothingness. Wow is that a wonderful concept.

"Man I would fucking kill for a big, sloppy cheeseburger right about now," Adam suddenly comments, making Sam look with wide eyes at him. "And a beer. Just a cold, regular, cheap ass beer in a can."

"You sound like Dean," Sam smirks, his mouth muscles almost protesting as he does. He hasn't smiled in so long his face might have atrophied.

"Do I?"

"Yeah. The guy lives on burgers and beer." Sam then full blown smiles. "And pie."

"I can respect that," Adam nods.

"And women," Sam tags on.

"I can respect that even more." They both let out a small, huffed breath that normally would be a laugh. They've forgotten how to laugh after all this time of horror.

"I wonder how he's doing," Sam says aloud. "Been worried about him."

" _You're_  worried about  _him_?" Adam asks with disbelief.

"Well… yeah."

"Shouldn't he be the worried one?" he challenges Sam right back, not understanding.

"He is. I know he is. Dean's always been… overly concerned about me," Sam explains. "We only ever had each other our whole lives so all he's ever done is watch over me. It's been his life's work and without that… I just get worried."

"Jesus," Adam complains clearly. "I wish I had someone that concerned about me."

Sam pauses at this point. Sounds like he's hit a nerve with Adam.

"Adam, if we had known…"

"Save it Sam," Adam says, his head dropped back against the wall. "If you guys knew you and Dean would have found me, made me family, made me a hunter maybe, blah-blah-blah. It didn't happen that way so why do the what-if bullshit."

Another pause as Sam methodically plans his next comment. "Would have been nice to have a little brother though. I've always been the youngest. I wouldn't have minded the middle."

"I wouldn't have minded a family more than two people," Adam acridly remarks. "As fucked up as you two are it couldn't have been worse having you two around than not."

Sam shakes his head at this.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," Adam says heavily. His worn, tired, destroyed eyes look at Sam for answer, for hope, for  _something_. Without words he shares just how bad it's been locked away with his tormenter. Sam knows that look. Dean had it for so long after returning to Earth after his stint in hell. He's sure he himself has it now after all he's seen. This whole thing truly is impossible. How a human soul is supposed to withstand this he doesn't know. The goal is usually to turn the good soul so black that it's corrupted into pure evil. The point of hell torture is to create more demons for hell's bidding. But this… this is different. There was no option to get off the rack in the cage. There is no end to the torture. It'll never stop.

"Don't give up, man," Sam sadly says, not able to look at Adam as he says it. "That's all you can do. Keep fighting back when you can and never give Michael an inch."

"How long do you think we'll be stuck here?"

Sam closes his eye with the question. The angels really are dicks. They clearly left out a lot of pertinent information for Adam to understand about the Apocalypse.

"What?" Adam asks when he watches Sam's reaction. "What's the poop-face about?"

Jesus, the kid definitely belongs in their family.

"Adam… this isn't just gonna stop one day," Sam begins to painfully explain. "And there's no emergency exit hidden away anywhere. This is it for us."

Adam stares at him for a moment, the idea hitting him hard. "So we just… stay here… tortured for the rest of our lives? We do this until we die?"

And it just keeps getting worse. "We won't really ever die down here. With what they've done to us don't you think that would have done the trick?"

"That's true, but…"

"We're already dead, Adam," Sam just spills it all at once. "We fell down that pit, the human us died. We're stuck here for as long as hell and this cage and Lucifer and Michael exist. No light at the end of the tunnel. No saving to be had."

Now, Sam has seen the look of horror several times in his life. He's seen it from every monster he's killed right before pulling the trigger. He's seen it on Dean's face when Sam left for school or when Sam's life was threatened. He's seem it all over Lizzy the day Lou died and then again when he showed up on her doorstep to tell her Dean was in hell and wasn't coming back to her. The look on Adam's face might just beat them all.

As his personal eternity becomes clear and he settles into the fact that the torture will never stop, Adam keeps quiet. Words don't form, neither do coherent thoughts. He's been through things that have absolutely terrified him to the core before but this… this trumps everything.

"It'll never stop?" Adam more says than asks.

"Sorry," Sam answers, his face wrought with pity for the poor kid.

"Shit. Shit, Sam. I…" Adam sputters when the truth all but slugs him in the face, the tears already collecting. "It's… I, I can't do that. I can't make it…."

"Running away, huh Sammy?"

Suddenly Adam's gone while mid-sentence. The corridor is gone. His solace is gone, replaced with the devil and being strung up on that all too familiar rack of his once more.

"Did you really think I wouldn't find you?" Nick's voice patronizes Sam as he stands over him, cracking his knuckles.

Sam closes his eyes, ready for another go around with his personal torture master. The break was bliss while it lasted… even if the look in Adam's eyes are already haunting him.

"So, how's that bastard half-brother of yours?" Lucifer questions knowingly and Sam's eye shoot up to look at him with surprise. "Oh, come now Sammy-boy. Don't you know me by now? You think I would just leave you alone without a plan in place?"

Speechlessly, Sam just lays there as his brain turns with the new information.

"You see, my brother and I have an arrangement," Lucifer starts to explain as he leans into the side of the rack casually. "He gets his side of the cage, I get mine. We might not be able to contain our hatred otherwise. And I began thinking… what could be more painful for my little inmate than forcing him into telling that poor, unfortunate, bastard brother of his about his true fate down here. Ha… poor little shit had no idea, did he?"

As Lucifer laughs evilly, reveling in the emotional toll that's being taken out on his subject, Sam shakes his head. "Fucking asshole."

"Aw, such harsh words," Lucifer responds, standing up tall. "Sticks and stones, Sammy." He then holds up an old fashioned barber shop razor blade, it looking rusty and dull over time. Sam immediately closes his eyes tight since he knows what that implement's presence means and waits, the pain starting soon after as Lucifer starts from the top and down this time. He strips Sam's cheek of the skin on it as Sam cries out with the white hot burning agony.

Lucifer then brings his mouth to Sam's ear as Sam pants and struggles. "Say what you will to me but just remember… the more your mouth runs the more you fuel my creativity."

* * *

 


	9. July 24th

* * *

"Fuck!"

He can hear Lizzy loud and clear over the second rate, B horror movie he has on in the living room.

"Ow, fucking so stupid! Ow!"

He's on his feet instantly.

Nearly jogging down the short hallway, Dean rounds the corner to find Lizzy with her hand under the faucet, water pouring over her hand as she stands there swearing for the record. The water comes out of the spout clear but by the time it hits the sink basin it's a bright red.

"Son of a fucking bitch!"

"What happened?" Dean asks, his voice automatically serious as he reaches for her, pulling her hand from the cold tap to take a look at what's causing her pain.

"Cut my fucking hand on the fucking top of the can lid. So dumb," she says in a tone of pure upset. When Dean looks to the side of her he sees the opened can of artichoke hearts, the lid of it still attached but half opened with the can opener next to it.

"Lemme see," he says, bringing her hand closer to him. It's already clear that she did a number on it. There's a deep line across her palm nearly from the base of her pinky to the center of her wrist. It's bleeding quite profusely. "Damn."

"I know. Can't believe I did that."

"How  _did_  you do that?" Dean asks with sheer confusion as he grabs a clean kitchen towel from the oven handle where she hangs them.

"You'd figure after being a hunter for years I'd be better with sharp objects…" she comments with a hiss as Dean wraps her hand in the towel and puts pressure on her palm to slow the bleeding. Once he has it covered he brings her hand level with her head and holds it there above her pumping heart, making eye contact with her for the first time since he came into the room. "I wanted to make dinner. You've been actually eating lately and I felt like if I made something good you'd eat well."

Dean's heart jumps with the comment. Even after the past couple of months, even after almost losing her from getting lost in Sam's damnation, she's trying. She'll never quit on him, he's sure of it now. What a feeling to have, to know that the person you love truly loves you right back and to no end.

"You didn't have to do that," he tells her, his tone sincere and warm.

She's almost forgotten that his voice could be that kind.

"I wanted to," she shrugs.

They pause for a second, just looking at each other as they wait to see if Dean can get the bleeding to stop. Somehow their relationship is rediscovering the comfortable place they always used to have. Maybe Lizzy leaving the night he went and got himself nearly killed at the crossroads was the best thing she's ever done. It shocked him back into being the real him. She can see Dean again,  _her_  Dean. She missed him so much.

And now, the way he looks at her with his bright green eyes filled with love and some worry about her injury makes her get that butterflies in her stomach feeling.

"Lemme look," Dean finally says to her after the moment passes and he pulls her hand down and opens the towel. "Yeah, you're looking at some stitches for this one," he tells her when the bleeding doesn't stop.

"Great," she huffs with sadness. "It'll be so easy to do with my left hand." Lizzy's a righty and it's her right hand that's split wide open.

"I'll do it," Dean tells her as he presses the towel over the slice once more.

"Baby, I love you, but you suck at stitching."

"Ok, I'm not that bad…"

"You're side would say different," Lizzy reminds him. One month ago he attempted to stitch the knife wound in his side closed when she left and didn't do it for him. He did it in a rush but still, it's never been his strong point. Dean wasn't ever patient enough to get good at it when he was younger, not like Sam. And Lizzy's short but important medical background has made her excellent at it.

"Fine, I'm no expert but who else is gonna do it?"

"The fine people at the hospital ER," she says with worry. She has no legal medical insurance right now and she doesn't know the status of their bunk coverage at the time.

"We don't have any insurance right now. The last one lapsed a few weeks ago. It'll cost an arm and a leg to get that closed up," he explains to her. "Look, we have everything we need here and I'll take my time. You can coach me through it."

Lizzy peers at him for a split second as Dean hopes she'll trust him enough to let him help her. He wants to help her as much as possible. He's still very much in her debt… maybe he always will be… but he'd like to start making it up to her now.

"Alright," Lizzy concedes as she takes her hand back, keeping pressure on it like he had been doing. "Just turn off the burners on the stove for me before you grab the supplies?"

"Consider it done," he responds immediately and is already turning the knobs on the oven top. "Go get comfy in the living room and I'll be in there in a second."

And then he's off, grabbing supplies with a little glimmer of hope in his heart. He gets to help her. She needs him and he is going to be there for her. While taking the black bag containing the med supplies out of the bathroom closet he can't stop the smile that very quickly flashes across his lips. Maybe things really will be ok with them after all. It's been a cautious and strange few weeks since he almost lost her, the daily routine they have found for themselves awkward sometimes. Everything used to be so comfortable and easy… he just wants that back after how close he's come to losing it. And it's his fault. More guilt for him to add to the incredible, always growing pile of guilt he has within him every day of his life.

By the time he has everything he needs and is walking into the living room Lizzy is sitting at the kitchen table off to the side, the place they keep it with the odd layout of the old apartment, with her injured hand resting on it. She looks at him and gives him a small smile.

Dean sits across from her, opens the bag, and lays out everything he needs in a methodical way much like he's seen her do a million times. He opens the hydrogen peroxide and pours a good amount into a small bowl before dropping the scissors and needle into it to disinfect them.

Watching him go into autopilot based on his father's training and what he's gleaned from her own ways of doing things, Lizzy grins quietly as she watches on. Dean is a smart man, smarter than he will ever give himself credit for being. She assumes he's so tough on his mental abilities because he's grown up with a genius of a brother and Sam's incredible mental abilities just eclipsed his own. But Lizzy knows better even if John didn't. Dean's intelligent to no end and she's fairly sure he 'sucks' at stitching because Sam was so good it intimidated him. It was labeled Sam's thing, not Dean's.

As Dean beings to disinfect her slice by pouring a good amount of antiseptic into it, she twitches with the sting at first but then adjusts. She wishes the pain associated with such injuries was harsh and unfamiliar but it isn't. In fact, this is nothing compared to what she's experienced before.

He dabs the wound, it still bleeding a bit but not so badly that it's hospital worthy for them. Once the cut in her hand is germ free and ready to be closed, Dean threads the needle.

"I don't think you suck at this half as much as you think you do," Lizzy comments, speaking up for the first time since they sat down. She's getting the feeling that it isn't lack of talent that's holding him back right now.

"That's nice of you to try and pump up my confidence but you've seen me in action. I do suck," he tells her, sure from the past that his skills aren't what they should be.

"I'm just being honest with you," Lizzy admits and Dean looks up to her. "You have a mental block about it or something. You know how to do this, I swear. Just take your time and relax."

"You know that scar Sam has on the back of his calf that's long and crooked?"

"Uh, yeah," Lizzy answers, recalling the nasty looking, curved line he had. It looked vicious.

"I did that," Dean admits. "Dad was away and Sam cut himself on broken glass somehow. I stitched him back up because we had no insurance at the time and made it worse in the long run."

"How old were you?"

"Sixteen."

"Sixteen!? You were just a kid!" Lizzy rebuts immediately.

"Well, I was never a kid…"

The words hurt her more than they hurt him. She forgets that by sixteen he'd already spent over a decade being an adult.

"But you were young," she tries to backtrack. "And you're thirty now."

"Don't remind me…."

Lizzy sighs with frustration. "You want to help me then relax a bit. You're good that this, I know you are. Just take your time and I'll let you know if you're doing anything wrong."

Dean doesn't answer her, just dries the wound and preps it to be sewn shut.

"And I know from experience how good you are with your hands. I have all the confidence in the world when it comes to those fingers."

Eyes flying up to her with wide surprise at her comment, Lizzy laughs quietly with his reaction to her words. Sex has been something far away for them, something they've barely mentioned with the painful loss of Sam so he didn't expect this one.

"Well alright," Dean smirks a bit before looking back down at her hand and seeing an issue. "This is pretty jagged."

"Fucking can lids. You'd think that our society would have figured out how to make cans safer with all the technology we have."

"Agreed," Dean absently answers back as he picks up the scissors. He slowly and very carefully cuts away the more ragged edges of her skin along the slice, cautious not to inflict further pain on her. His hand is steady as he concentrates and Lizzy watches him without a word, not wanting to interrupt him.

Once he has the clean edges he needs to ensure a safe stitching, he picks up the curved needle. He glances up at her once and Lizzy winks at him, telling him she trusts him implicitly.

And so he starts in. Dean starts with the end of the slice closest to him and slowly, almost painstakingly so, pierces her skin and begins closing her up.

A few stitches in Lizzy jumps a bit and groans very quietly in the hopes that he doesn't hear her. No such luck.

"I'm fine," she smiles when he looks up at her with concern, thinking he messed up and hating that he's caused her further pain. "You didn't do anything wrong. This isn't supposed to feel good. Keep going."

He narrows his eyes at her.

"No, Dean, I'm not lying. I swear you're doing really good. Now can you close me up please?"

"Yeah," Dean answers as he exhales hard with relief and once more steadies his hand. He continues on, making each slow stitch perfect and closing her slice with precision. He can't remember ever concentrating on anything in his life harder than he is right now.

When he ties off the opposite end and cuts the loose thread, Dean lets out a sigh of relief.

He looks at his handy work and surprises himself with it. He did well… really well. Hell, that's damn near professional if you ask him. Her scarring might even be minimal.

"Hey," Lizzy calls to him as he grabs for antibiotic ointment and he looks across the table at her face, a small smile of what he thinks is pride is on her face. "I told you so."

Dean smirks a little at this before finishing up his work. Once her hand with wrapped up in white gauze he starts to pack everything up.

"I wonder if I can cook with a bum hand." Lizzy wonders aloud a she tried to make a fist but thinks better of it once she can feel the pain in her hand flaring up. It's probably best she rest it for the night and hopefully it feels good enough to get through work tomorrow night. "Mm, maybe not."

"You don't have to make dinner, L. It's ok," Dean tells her, putting the last of the supplies into the bag and zipping it closed.

"I know. It's just that I got halfway through and it seems like a waste of food now," she shrugs.

"What were you making?" he has to ask, his stomach grumbling a little at the thought of dinner.

"Remember the thing I made the first night you visited me a few years back… before Laraje fucked our weekend right up?"

Cringing at the memory of the demon bitch that did her best to destroy their relationship, he pushes past her evil and recalls the meal she made him the first night. "Shit, that was good. What was that?"

"Some Mediterranean thing my mom used to make," she explains.

"Ok, well I'm not giving that up because of a little cut. I'll finish it for you."

"Excuse me?" Lizzy huffs with total amusement. He couldn't have just made that offer.

"I'm not a total moron in the kitchen," Dean tells her, picking up the medical bag and getting up from his seat. "You can tell me what to do and I'll finish for you."

Dean watches as a smile slowly but surely spreads across her lips and doesn't stop until it's wide and beautiful. He missed that from her so much. He knows she hasn't had cause to smile in way too long so he knows why she's been so somber but seeing that toothy grin now reminds him of why it is he loves her so damn much. She keeps him going, keeps him in one piece… and she keeps him hopeful when he shouldn't be anymore.

"You want to cook?" she asks as she steps closer to him, a little glint of happiness showing up in her eyes.

"I can try," he tells her, not letting on to the fact that yeah, he can cook. He was the only one willing to give the whole cooking thing a solid try growing up. It was rare that he made a real dinner, especially since it was rare that they stayed somewhere that cooking was an option, but when he did he did it well enough.

"Well then, Chef Dean," she says with a light tone, her arms coming up around his neck. "I would love to help you finish dinner."

She then presses up on her toes to reach his height and kisses his lips once. It's quite sincere and very loving and she takes her time, not wanting the moment to pass them too quickly. She hasn't kissed him like this in so long and she misses it terribly.

Dean's feeling the same way as he places his hands on her hips gently, as if unsure if it's ok that he does that. Walking on eggshells for a while has made him hesitant at best.

"And thank you for saving my life," she says once she ends the kiss, a playful hint of something behind her voice. "I could have bled out if you didn't sew me back up."

"Just paying you back for all the times you did the same for me."

"You've needed sewing up a lot, haven't you?"

"I'm a man of action, L," Dean explains away jokingly, another first in a long time.

"Well man of action, get that action making ass into the kitchen," she tells him while backing away and heading out the room. "You have some cooking to do."

* * *

"Terrible throw!" Lizzy laughs out as a slice of black olive sails over her head. "Too high!"

"I'm trying to cook here!" Dean excuses his poor aim as he stands in front of the stove, diced chicken cooking in the skillet. "My focus is split."

"You're so full of shit!" she makes fun instantly. "Come on, try again and this time actually try!"

Eyeing her with fake annoyance, Dean picks up another piece of olive and aims, tossing it her way. This time she's able to catch it in her mouth.

"Yes!" Lizzy cheers, fists raised in celebration.

Dean huffs a quick laugh with her enthusiasm before turning back to the stove. "Alright, the bird looks good. Now what?"

"Now you add the tomatoes first," she points at the Roma tomato chunks on the cutting board that she already had chopped up before splitting open her hand.

"Ok," he says as he does as she asked.

"And a tablespoon of Italian seasoning… right over there," she points again from her seat on the counter next to where he's working.

"Got it," he says as he adds the ingredient.

"While that cooks down you wanna quarter the artichoke hearts and slice up the onion."

"See," Dean peers to her off to the side of him as he picks up a knife to get going. "Nothing to this."

"Yes, you're a regular Bobby Flay, baby," Lizzy pokes fun with his pride.

"Who the fuck is Bobby Flay?"

Lizzy reaches for one last black olive slice and pops it into her mouth. "The man who's dick I'd happily suck just to get him to make me dinner once."

"You'd blow a guy for a solid meal?" Dean asks her while taken with her comment.

"From the greatest American chef there is… ah, definitely," she enthusiastically tells him, meaning it too. Dean may love his food but Lizzy isn't so far behind him with her gluttony.

"Never knew the food business could be so sexually lucrative," he says and Lizzy laughs at him.

"It's hard to find a man who's that good at cooking," she says right back

They fall into a comfortable silence, Dean chopping away as Lizzy watches on and hums along to 'Couldn't Stand the Weather' (she never cooks without music playing, never).

"You seem to be doing better," Lizzy very cautiously tells him, afraid to upset him or put him into a bad headspace.

"I'm ok enough," Dean tells her without emotion, not looking away from his work. "Still don't really wanna talk about it."

"That's fine," Lizzy assures him quickly, not trying to make him do anything he isn't ready to do. "I'm just happy to see this side of you again."

Not sure what to say, Dean continues to cut up the ingredients like she told him to. They've avoided speaking emotionally since the whole mess a month ago because of how painful it is to do so and he doesn't want to fall back into that scary place he was in before. He can't do that to her again.

"I'm sorry about all that," Dean once more apologizes, knowing it's a long road back from what he's done to her still.

"You don't have to apologize again," Lizzy assures while picking at the bandage on her hand.

"Yes I do," he tells her, finishing the artichokes and starting in on the onion. "I'll always be making up for how I acted… and everything else I've ever done wrong."

"What else is there?" Lizzy challenges him, not at all aware of what he's talking about.

Dean hyper focuses on slicing up the onion on the cutting board in even, perfect pieces as it allows him to get through what he's had to tell her for a long time now.

"You're a better person than me…"

"You have  _got_  to stop saying that."

"No I don't," he tells her, still looking down. "It's true. You're beyond anything I ever deserve and you… care so much. About me. About how I am. With everything I put you through these past few months you kept trying with me. You did everything you could to make sure I was ok when I was a raging douche bag at best."

"You lost your brother," Lizzy reminds him that she understands why it got so dark and awful.

"But I didn't lose you… even if I should have. I just feel like I'll never be able to make up for all the mistakes I've made with you."

Lizzy is confused now. "What mistakes are you talking about?"

This is when Dean drops his knife and grows some balls. He looks over at her. "How could you sit there and say you don't know what I'm talking about?"

Lizzy just shakes her head and doesn't understand.

"I meet you at Bobby's and within a few days I'm fucking crazy about you and I never told you because I was a chicken shit. Hell, you let me know that you already loved me and what do I do? I go off and fuck Tara Benchley a few days later out of total fear."

"The actress?" Lizzy asks with wide eyes. "You fucked a Hollywood scream queen?"

Oops. He forgot that he never told her about that one.

"I might have."

"Holy shit," Lizzy nearly laughs. "How'd you pull that one off?"

"Saved her movie set that was haunted."

"Wow, not bad, Winchester," Lizzy smirks at the news.

"That's seriously your reaction to what I just told you?" Dean asks incredulously. He expected jealousy, maybe anger, but not amusement.

"It's impressive," she tries to brush off but he isn't accepting it. He still looks like he waiting for a ticking bomb to explode. "Dean, fuck. Calm down. It's not like we discussed having a relationship or anything. In fact we agreed that we couldn't make it work with our lives."

"I know, but…"

"But nothing," Lizzy says, her tone at full ease. "I knew you well enough to know that you weren't gonna come to me with this huge, grandiose confession of love, ok? I never told you not to fuck other girls and it's not like one or two didn't slip into my bed in the time away either. We weren't together. That one I'm not mad at."

"How about me dropping you for a year, then?"

Lizzy swallows hard and nods slightly. "Ok, that one hurt."

"You didn't deserve it. I didn't even tell you why I disappeared. I just… I couldn't tell you about the deal I made. I thought it'd be better if you were mad at me than if you knew I was going to Hell."

"And it took a lot of time to heal from that one but I did," Lizzy tells him. "I understand it. Dean, everything you've ever done has been done with best intentions. I know you. I know that the decision to leave me out of your life was an extremely tough one for you to make but you did it for me."

"But it's another mistake I've made," he explains himself. "Just like running to Lisa when I ditched you and banging all that strange during that year I couldn't fess up to wanting and needing only you while my date with Hell was coming closer every day. I sold my allegiance to Heaven and I didn't ask you how you felt about it before I did." He clenches his jaw tight. "I've fucked up plenty and I always feel like I'm going to be below you. For what I've done I certainly earned that place."

"You act like I'm a saint," Lizzy says to him.

"Because you are."

"Yeah, in  _your_  eyes," Lizzy points out to him with an exasperated tone. "Dean, you always say I see you differently than everyone else, that I look past so much horror…"

"Because you do."

"But you do the same with me!"

This shuts Dean up instantly.

"I got pregnant and didn't even tell you. Hell, when you knew something was wrong and came to me to help me through the depression you thought I had… I let you. I let you think I was depressed because  _I_  was too chicken shit to be honest with  _you_ ," she starts her own list. "I've flown off the handle and clocked you in the face on two separate occasions. And when you left me without a word I wasn't any nun myself either… I fucked a lot of guys.  _A lot_. It's embarrassing. I regret it now but back then I didn't care. I did it because every guy I racked up felt like a win against you. That's how spiteful I was." She pauses for a second. "And… I married you're fucking brother."

"That was a shifter."

"Still felt like I betrayed you to no end with that one though," she lets him know. "I'm not perfect, Hot Shot… just like you. We both have hurt each other but we're human. That's what we do. We make mistakes."

"I've made some pretty big ones though…"

"Am I still here?"

"I don't know why, but yes," Dean answers her honestly.

"Because I've forgiven you." Lizzy hops down from her seat on the counter and stands in front of him. "I know that I need you more than anything and I am not willing to let some hiccups ruin us. We're too good. Now you just need to forgive yourself. This isn't about me. This is all about you."

Dean just looks at her after hearing her loud and clear. Lizzy's right. He's keeps thinking he has all this horror to make up for when Lizzy doesn't see it the same way. She's past it all. He's the one hung up on his own wrong doings.

Lizzy nudges her head to the chopped ingredients on the cutting board. "You gonna keep making me dinner or what?"

Nodding small, Dean picks up the cutting board. "Dump it in?"

"You got it," Lizzy says to him.

He takes the knife and pushes the artichoke and onion into the pan as he feels Lizzy's lips land on his cheek.

"You're always gonna be the most important thing in my life," she tells him quietly right into his ear as if she wanted this comment to be only for him in a crowded room. "You could never make me not love you anymore."

He watches her walk back to the counter and hope back up onto it with her uninjured hand. He'd tell her he loves her too but he's too choked up to and he's just so over the whole crying thing. He keeps crying at the rate he has been he'll probably grow a vagina.

"Alright, dump in the olives and then cover it," Lizzy keeps instructing, keeping it light and avoiding any more emotional stuff for his sake. "Set the timer for ten minutes."

Dean listens, does as she instructs, and continues to finish the dinner she started while feeling the weight of the world lessen for the first time in what feels like years.

He's the luckiest bastard on Earth and he'll never let himself forget that ever again.

* * *

 


	10. July 30th-August 2nd

* * *

It's like riding a bike. It's really that easy, Sam thinks to himself with a smile as he stalks down the long corridor of an abandoned warehouse, his salt round-filled pump-action shotgun aimed ahead. Jumping right back into hunting has been an absolute cake walk. It's like his mind is so clear and focused now, unburdened by his old hang ups, fears, and concerns that he's never been a better hunter.

When he found his first solo case it was like he'd been on autopilot. The day after he left the cemetery he'd been suddenly popped into with not a single clue as to how or why it was like he blinked and when his lids opened he was in a shitty motel room scanning newspapers for suspicious activity out of lifelong habit. If there's one life he knows better than any other it will always be hunting. Evil gave him something to focus on right away and, more importantly, it gave him a purpose. Right now, with no rhyme or reason for his escape, he needs guidance. Hunting is what is showing him the way this time.

So, until he breaks the case surrounding his own release, Sam's got work to do. He read of some disappearances in Utah while holed up in a motel after his last hunt. Autopilot running, he went online to do some research on a laptop he borrowed from the teen girl staying next door with her family (He barely had to ask to use it. Just one slick smile. It was too easy.) and he left town in a stolen car an hour later.

Next thing he knows he's here, at an old farming equipment warehouse that's been long abandoned looking for a ghoul that he knows is there. He already offed one just outside the main door as he was about to come in. Now he just has to find the other.

Silently searching this warehouse for ten minutes now, Sam's come up with absolutely nothing. His patience is waning far too quickly and already he's sick of the game. The ghoul has to know he's there, know he's after it, and Sam's ready for the kill.

"You know I'm here!" Sam's voice commands loudly into the open area of the huge abandoned building as he peeks from around a corner, keeping his body covered. "Come out already!"

A sudden scrambling sound comes from his left and he just catches the shadow of a person running off to the far back corner of the large open area of the warehouse. Shifting quickly through the maze of palates and left behind, dusty boxes, Sam tracks the sounds of the ghoul as it moves. A footstep here, a knocked over box there, and soon enough he's just about got it cornered. He steps lightly and carefully, making his way without a sound towards the monster.

"Stop running," Sam smirks as he finally comes face to face with the ghoul. It has its back pressed against the wall with nowhere to go when Sam steps up directly in front of it, the move a bit brazen but with his gun drawn he feels more than confident. "The easier you make this on me, the quicker I'll make this for you."

The human looking monster shakes with fear at the sight of the hunter's cold, unforgiving eyes. He panics and tries to run but Sam is quicker, blocking his way with his fist.

As the harsh thud of his balled up hand landing harshly in the ghoul's cheek, Sam's satisfaction grows. He smiles wide as it starts to fall to the ground with the assault.

The ghoul lands on its back while clutching its face, reeling for a second with the pain. It peers up at Sam just in time to watch the hunter pull the trigger.

The bullet lands its perfect mark, dead between the ghoul's eyes. With blood and brain matter now painting the floor and lower wall behind it, again Sam smiles a bit wider than before. That felt good. That felt damn good. And more importantly, that felt right.

Tucking his trusty handgun into the back of his pants, Sam bends down and grabs the legs of the lifeless monster. As he drags the heavy load across the concrete floor, a trail of deep red blood being made behind it, he looks forward to the salt and burn he's about to get to. It's the symbol of a finished hunt… or better yet, a win. He's done well on this one, just like the other hunts he's had in the few weeks he's been back. Successful is putting it lightly.

While the flames grow high into the night air an hour later, Sam's satisfied enough and heads for the stolen car he parked out front. He really needs a better car, one that can speed his ass out of town if he ever screws up. He would also like to gather a better arsenal. Maybe he should go see Bobby. Hell, maybe he should go see Dean. If his brother is still in hunting shape he'd still be Sam's ideal partner. They work together seamlessly and he can trust that Dean will have his back. He's his brother after all.

Alright, check out Dean's scene first… and drop a few bad guys on the way out east just because.

* * *

"Where the fuck are my keys?" Lizzy asks mostly to herself as she walks into the living room, looking around anywhere she might have left them.

"Coulda left them in the door again," Dean suggests as he watches TV, usual beer in hand. She's been known to do that lately, leaving her apartment key in the lock as her mind has been quite inundated with other, more important and morose thoughts.

"I checked," she tells him. "Shit… I'm gonna be late for work."

She picks up her worn leather bomber jacket from where she tossed it over a chair the day before and searches the pockets. In it she finds some change, receipts, a wadded up dollar, and finally an envelope that makes her pause when she sees it.

Smoothing it out, her sights fall over the familiar chicken-scratch handwriting of Sam's that she'd know anywhere. It only says one word. Rina.

"Shit," Lizzy whispers to herself as she realizes what she's forgotten to do.

"What's wrong?" Dean peers over, seeing how upset she's suddenly grown.

Without a word and a look of complete desolation on her face, she holds the envelope out for Dean to see. His own expression instantly drops.

"I forgot," she tells him.

"Oh," Dean complains.

Sam had very few requests of the people he loved before he dove into the pit. He wanted Dean and Lizzy to live normal lives and he wanted Lizzy to get this letter to Rina. She failed so far with the simpler of the two tasks.

"Fuck," she continues to lament while plopping heavily down on the couch next to Dean. "All he asked was this one tiny little thing…"

"And life hasn't been easy on you," Dean excuses on her behalf. "I haven't exactly been easy on you either. You've been more than preoccupied."

"I just feel so bad," Lizzy explains herself. "He went to go see her like three months ago and she's been waiting to hear something, anything, this whole time. I suck wicked bad."

"Send it out tomorrow, then." Dean shrugs. "It'll get there in a few days. It's fine."

"Should I just send it though?" Lizzy worries, thinking that to be somewhat cold considering the circumstances.

"What else would you do?" Dean wonders, not seeing an alternative.

Looking over at him, she says, "Maybe I should head down there and give it to her in person."

Dean considers this option for a moment. "That would be nice of you but do you really think you're in any kinda place to travel across the country right now?"

"I don't know," she answers while thinking it over. "Not really. And I'm not comfortable leaving you for days if I'm being honest."

"Wow, thanks…" he says with the what he takes as an insult.

"Don't be offended. I would just worry about you being alone too much," Lizzy tells him, simply put. "I know you still hate when I have a shift and leave for hours. You couldn't do days in a row right now and I doubt you want to drive to Louisiana with me."

"Yeah," Dean sighs and agrees. She nailed it as always.

"Ah, but can I just send this letter? She's gonna open it so unprepared…"

"So write something to her that she'll read first," Dean suggests. "You're good at that."

"At writing?"

"At speaking from the heart," Dean says to her as he takes the letter from her hands. As he runs the pad of his index finger over the writing, the ink that came from a pen his brother held to jot her name on the envelope dark and heavy just as Sam always wrote, the stab of pain in his heart returns. "You wrote me a letter once and it was great."

"Do you still have that?" Lizzy questions. She wrote that letter to him after the weekend they met came to an end. She already knew Dean wasn't a talker but she always was, so to make it easier on him she wrote her feelings for him down. Hell, she confessed a whole lot to him in that letter, even the fact that she already knew she loved him. It was a ballsy move that she's never once regretted.

"It's never left my wallet," he says, the letter having held a permanent place in his billfold from the day he got it. That piece of paper meant the world to him… and it still does.

Lizzy smiles small with his answer. She always thought it sweet of him to do that.

"Ok. I'll write to her," Lizzy decides to use his idea. "I'll work on it when I get back."

* * *

Usual morning routine in full swing, Rina opens the front door of her shop. Gathering up the pile of bills and junk mail off the floor behind the door, she heads towards the back room while sorting through the envelopes. Making her way to the checkout counter she flips through; electric bill, coupon for the pizza joint down the street, flier from Bed Bath and Beyond, and a letter.

Looking closer at the envelope she nearly drops everything when she reads the return address.

_Winchester_

_39 Randolph St_

_Canton, MA 02021_

Oh no. Her blood turning cold, she knows this can't be good. Sam shows up on her doorstep to say goodbye weeks ago and now this. Instead of him dropping by again, she's getting a letter.

Rina walks back to the storefront door and locks it. She makes a wise snap decision. Her store is opening late today.

Once back behind her register she places the letter on the smooth counter top and just stares at it. She doesn't even need to open it to know what it says. She's feared this every day since she saw him last. This is it. This is the last time she will hear from Sam Winchester. She's sure of it.

Swallowing hard, she picks up the thick letter and slips her finger under the sealed opening. She tears it open and pulls out another envelope with a piece of paper folded around it. Holding it together as best she can despite her heart pounding and her stomach a bit nauseous already, she unfolds the paper. It's a female's handwriting. She looks ahead to where it's signed at the bottom and sighs. Of course. Lizzy. Deep breath, she begins to read.

_Rina,_

_There is no good way to tell you this and I wish more than anything that I didn't have to at all. I am so sorry but Sam is no longer with us._

_I felt it important that you understand a little of what happened. With how close you two became I feel it is only right to tell you. In the end Sam made the ultimate sacrifice. He gave his life to literally save the world that had already been resting on his shoulders for years now._

_Sam found a way to put Lucifer back in the cage he'd been freed from. He knew full well going into his plan that he would not make it out and he did it anyways. I told you before that he'd do anything to fix his mistakes and he most certainly did. We are all alive because of him._

_I also want to let you know much Sam valued his time and his relationship that he had with you. When you two met he was in a very terrible place and I can't help but think, or rather know as fact, that you are the reason he was able to find his way out of it. You really did change his life for the better and for him that is a very rare thing. You were one of the very few bright spots Sam had ever been able to find and for that I have to thank you on behalf of myself and Dean. We wanted to see him happy, even if it was only every great now and then, and when with you he was actually happy._

_I apologize for doing this in letter form instead of in person. Dean and I are currently in no shape to travel around the country for the first time ever. Sam's dying wish was that we live a normal life and quit hunting along with getting this letter to you. I wish I could have come to see you and do this in person and I hope you understand why I just couldn't._

_If you need anything you still have our numbers. Never hesitate to call us. We may be trying to get out of the life but we will never say no to a good person in need. And if you just plain need someone to talk to I'd be happy to listen. I do know how hard it is to lose someone as exceptional as Sam._

_I am truly sorry, Rina._

_Lizzy Winchester_

"Crap," Rina sighs in a whisper as she finishes up the letter. She knew it. Sam was gone. And he saved her life along with billions of others while he was at it. Yet no one will ever know it. He's given his life and is a true hero in every sense of the word… yet the world will never even know his name. Sam should go down in history as the man who ended the end of the world. Instead, he's just another disappeared vagabond. "So not right."

Another deep breath and she wipes her eyes. Blinking hard, she tries to clear the tears enough so that she can read the next letter, the one from Sam that will surely crush her.

She tears open the worn envelope with her name on it and pulls out the two pieces of paper with some cheap motel's logo as the header. Jaw clenched and heart beating a mile a minute, she reads on.

_I know I already stopped by your place unexpectedly and most likely confused the hell out of you. I'm sorry if I did. I never meant to upset you or scare you at all. I just knew what I had to do at that point and knew I'd never get another chance to see you, talk to you, or be near you again so I couldn't stay away._

_If you're getting this letter that means I'm dead. Sorry for that line because I know it had to sound lame but sadly it's true. I made some massive, unforgivable mistakes in my life and I had to correct them. You already know all about that so I think you can completely understand. I had to do this._

_Where I'm going is nowhere good but I can tell you one thing for sure. I will never forget you and what you've done for me. I had been so wrapped up in loss and sadness when you came into my life that it was killing me. I missed Lou to an unhealthy point and you got me to work past that out the sheer goodness of your heart. You're a truly good person, Rina. One of the things I regret about what I will have to do is that I will be hurting the people around me that care about me, you being one of them. From the bottom of my heart, I am so sorry for that._

_Please don't worry about me. I made my own bed, as they say. Just make sure you continue to live a good life, you help people around you, and never stop being the beautiful person you are. Inside and out._

_Thank you for sharing your life with me and making mine so much better. I don't think words could possibly do justice to how thankful I am for having had you in my life, no matter how short a time it was for. Now you have to make sure you move on. Don't become the tangled up mess I became when I lost Lou. Please, make sure you don't dwell. I did the right thing. This isn't a tragedy. It's a win for the good guys for once._

_I really like you too, Rina. And remember, you promised to reread the Lord of the Rings trilogy again. You told me you would and now you have to, especially since I've been reading Harry Potter like you told me to. It's pretty damn good. You were right._

_Sam_

Sitting onto the floor behind the store counter as her legs weren't ready to keep her upright through all that, Rina can't hold it back any more. She lets herself cry, her head in her hands as she hunches over with the loss. She knew in her heart that he was already gone. She just knew it. Sam would never drive cross country to say what he did on her doorstep and then disappear if it wasn't bad, really bad. But getting confirmation of it while also hearing from him one last time, it was too much to handle.

Sam made her feel so much, made her open up and change for the better. He was sweet, smart, everything a good person should be. And because of how good he was he's now gone.

"I really like you too, Sam," she quietly repeats through a sob the line that stuck with her the most. He'd said that to her months ago when they were in Carlyle together. The way he said it and when he'd said it, it melted her heart. He meant it completely, he really did like her a lot, maybe more than a lot. The feeling was completely mutual… it still is.

As she sits there, unable to move with the grief clutching her tight, she has to wonder why it was that she had like him so damn much because now it just hurt so damn much to know she'll never have him back again.

* * *

 


	11. August 3rd-6th

* * *

"So I was thinking…" Lizzy begins as she walks into the kitchen where she finds Dean bent over and rummaging through the refrigerator.

"Great," he sarcastically responds as his head is literally in the icebox.

"… _And_  I think we need to get out of here for a day." She chooses to ignore his quip.

"Out of town?" he questions her, not exactly sure what she means as he searches on. She went grocery shopping the day before so the refrigerator is now packed and his precious beers, or whatever is left of them, are pushed into the back.

"No, I mean out of this apartment," she explains.

"Why would we do that… yes!" he suddenly cheers and grabs his finding. He stands tall, shuts the door, and pops the cap of his found treasure with his silver ring. "Knew there was one left," he tells her with gratefulness before gulping down a solid amount of beer.

She rolls her eyes at his desperation for a brew. Over two months into their new lives and he's still drinking more than she'd like him to but since she's also been doing her fair share of booze damage she can't say much. "We would do that because you haven't seen another human being besides me since we got here. You need to get out."

"Ah," he sighs after his huge sip. "Don't want to."

"Ah, but need to," she mimics him in jest. "And I think I have the perfect thing for us to do."

Arching an eyebrow at her, he waits to find out her genius plan.

"Classic car show," she answers him simply.

Dean just sighs at this suggestion.

"Come on!" she complains instantly. "This is right up your alley! You can show off you sexy girlfriend on the side and talk cars with people who genuinely love them… you'll have a blast."

"Eh," Dean shrugs. He'll admit that a car show does sound fun, very fun, even more fun if he gets to show off Baby (or his girlfriend on the side as Lizzy has deemed his car). But people and interacting with them? That just sounds awful. Especially if it's a crowd. He's not ready for that.

"Dean," she smiles and tries to be the farthest from pushy that she can manage. "I think it'll be fun. And good for both of us. And… I need to do it for Louie."

Giving her a look of confusion, Dean doesn't really understand.

"When Lou inherited the Mustang from that family friend, the first thing she said was she wanted to bring it to this car show. It's the biggest one in New England and she went to it every year with her dad. Brian was always so excited to go and Lou was the only one who was nearly as enthusiastic about it as he was. All she wanted was to show off her beauty she restored with her dad at this very show. I think I owe it to her to make that happen since she never had the chance."

Dean nods his understanding. And he appreciates what Lizzy is trying to do to honor her sister.

"You know how little I know about cars," Lizzy continues. "This is you're arena. The show is a couple towns over so we wouldn't be driving far. We could both bring our cars and you could do the talking. And trust me, no one will be asking about how you're doing lately. They'll just want to know about your perfect, beautiful '67 Chevy Impala and the amazing '64 Mustang right next to it."

She knows she has him. Bragging about his favorite other girl… hook, line, and sinker.

"Baby isn't ready to be shown," Dean airs his worries. "She needs some work first."

"Anything major?"

"Nah, just small stuff. I'd have to clean her up too… and get rid of the weapons…" he rambles a bit as he thinks it over. "And the Mustang isn't much better. Thing's been sitting in a garage space for almost two years straight."

"Well, we could work on that this week," Lizzy suggests with a hopeful attitude. "We can head out and get everything you'd need. I'll do the cleaning stuff because I can handle that, you do the bigger stuff."

"Could probably get them both in good enough shape by Saturday," Dean continues to think aloud. Lizzy smirks a bit to herself for finding this way to help him. He sounds interested and, dare she think, excited about something for the first time since they settled down.

"Well, I'll have plenty of time to help. I have a lunch shift tomorrow and Friday, and night shifts Wednesday and Thursday. But today and Saturday I have off."

"How'd you get Saturday off?"

"Worked my magic and got someone to cover for me once I found out about the car show," she admits.

"That's my girl." Dean smiles small, an actual smile at that, and kills the rest of his beer. "Damn. We're out." He shakes the bottle at her.

"And this time you can get your own damn beer," she tells him as she picks up her keys off the counter. "After we get done at the car store."

"The car store?" he asks with annoyance for her wording. Car store? How is he with someone who knows so damn little about cars? "Auto parts store, please."

"Oh, my  _huge_  fucking bad," Lizzy huffs, not really sorry at all.

"Just, you know, don't talk when we get there, huh?" Dean asks of her, heading down the stairs to put on his boots. "You'll embarrass me."

"Oh yes, master of all things car related," Lizzy fake bows at him.

"You know, you joke but I kinda like that title," he tells her, sitting at the last step to lace his boots. "Master of All Things Car. You should call me that from now on."

"Never happening," she laughs a bit and heads out the front door. Did they just have a moment of fun banter? Was that real? It's been so long since they had an easy going conversation that she can't help but smile. Yeah, this plan is awesome. She's brilliant.

* * *

"Ratchet," Dean asks for as he holds out his hand while bent over the open hood of the Impala. Lizzy gets up from her seat on the small cooler and grabs what he wants, dropping it heavily into his hand. "I need the three-eighths socket too… and six inch extension."

"Uh-huh," Lizzy answers hesitantly, peering over to the case of tools they picked up a few days before. Dean's been outside at least once a day working on the cars and getting them ready to be seen. Knowing how much he still hates to be alone, Lizzy has tried to come out with him on most days. She sits, drinks some beers, grabs him tools he needs, and listens to him explain what he's doing as if she understands any of it. He loves this stuff so much and it's just so damn good to hear him speak with such love and excitement in his voice that she just goes with it.

And now she stands over the case, staring at all the attachable sockets of different sizes, and is lost. She is not a tools person. This was Lou's department.

"Yeah," she drawls out while confused. "You wanted which one?"

Looking over to her and shaking his head, Dean walks over and grabs what he needs.

"You're a terrible student," he says quickly as he walks back to the Impala.

"Or maybe I just don't have an interest." She shrugs and sits back down.

"How the hell are we together?" Dean asks, still not getting how she could not care at all about cars when she drives a 1964 Mustang around every day.

"Dude, we are so alike in so many ways it's fucking scary," Lizzy reminds. "I think it's ok that I don't agree with you on one thing."

"I guess," he says back, his arm reaching into the car and nearly disappearing.

"Plus, if I was exactly, one hundred percent like you…"

"I'd probably end up killing you," Dean admits while finishing her statement for her.

"Exactly."

"Yeah," he continues to agree as he pulls his arm back out of the car. Taking up a rag he wipes his hands. "I still don't know how you haven't killed  _me_  yet."

"Don't think I haven't been tempted," Lizzy smiles at him, kidding… mostly.

"Well then thanks for refraining," he jests right back before stopping for a minute and taking a seat on the grass. "When do you have to leave for work today?"

"Before four," she tells him.

"Ok, 'cause I was thinking about coming by the bar tonight."

Looking at him with wide, shocked eyes, Lizzy nearly falls off the cooler.

"Don't look at me like that," Dean grumbles as he steals her beer and drinks from it, his having been long gone.

"Sorry but… seriously?"

"Yeah," Dean tells her. "I mean, I gotta get out sooner or later, right? And be somewhat social. And there's gonna be a lot of people at the car show so… baby steps."

"That's like, the most level headed thing you've said in a while," Lizzy tells him.

"Patronizing, L. Thanks," he tips the bottle at her and drinks.

"It wasn't meant to be a diss," she tells him. "And I think it's a good idea."

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely," she answers, getting up from her seat to open the cooler and pull a few beers out. "I'd get to hang out with you while at work. It'll make the night even better."

Dean nods while he takes her offered beer.

"Oh, but you can't get mad while there," Lizzy adds in as she sits back down facing him where he is a couple feet away on the grass.

"Why would I be mad?" he questions, confused by her warning.

"Because my job requires me to be friendly to our patrons in order to get the tips we need to survive here," Lizzy explains. "Just saying, if it looks like I'm flirting don't get pissed."

"Awesome," he sarcastically responds while popping open his fresh beer. "Maybe I don't want to go."

"You have to now!" Lizzy stops him from changing his mind. "You said you would and now I would be so bummed out if I didn't see you there. It's Thursday. It'll be mostly quiet with some college kids who stuck around during the summer."

"Ah, Thirsty Thursday," Dean nods, recalling her label for the night of the week at her local bar.

"You know it."

"Alright, I'll go," Dean promises. "And I'll behave."

"Nice," Lizzy smiles to him. "It'll be good to see you out of the house."

"Yeah," Dean grumbles, already slightly regretting the promise he just made her. He's gotten comfortable here at their apartment. It's safe, outsiders free, and quiet. He has some anxiety about it but Lizzy's been right. He needs to get out. He needs to try and be normal again… whatever the fuck that is. He needs to start moving into a life that he can live in which Sam's sacrifice doesn't go forgotten but it doesn't rule over his entire being.

Sam wanted him to have a normal life. The least he can do is start trying.

* * *

"Howdy stranger," Lizzy greets cheerily when she sees Dean taking a seat at the end of the long bar.

"Hey," he returns, looking around the somewhat calm place. "Quiet night?"

"Yeah," Lizzy answers with a little sadness. "It won't be my most productive night, that's for sure."

"What gives?" he wonders, remembering coming here with her to meet her high school friend Jenny a year and a half ago and the place was packed.

"Most college kids are home," she explains. "July tends to be slow."

"You need to pull in the locals," he comments.

"Easier said than done when you're known as the rowdy kid's bar through most of the year," Lizzy explains with a small laugh. She leans her elbows on the edge of the bar right in front of him and smiles warmly.

"Don't you guys have a patio out back?" Dean asks, think he saw one on his way in.

"Yeah but Mike uses it mostly for storage since it's pretty much crumbling with age."

"Dude, what a fucking waste," Dean shakes his head as he thinks it over. "You want to pull in locals you open that back patio. Everyone likes drinking outside when it's nice out. Everyone."

Looking at him with a cocked eyebrow, Lizzy couldn't agree more. "I know I do."

"Me too."

"You make a good point."

"All you have to do is put a couple TVs out there and put on some Sox games… you'll be making up the difference of the college kids going home in no time."

"Shit, Hot Shot," she says with surprise. "That's really smart."

"Hey, I am the brains of this relationship after all."

She smiles wide. "I'm gonna bring that up to Mike when he comes in soon. Maybe you could help him rebuilt it too, get you working."

"Well let's not get to ahead of ourselves," Dean warns her.

She leans in a bit closer to him despite the refusal to work. "It's really good to see you out."

"Shockingly, it's good to be out," he admits, looking at her. She looks good. Her boobs are out in full force to help ease the separation of money from the men at the bar's wallets and with her eating habits slowly improving lately she's looking healthier again. "Helps that you're here."

"Aw, so sweet," she semi-jests. "What can I get you?"

"El Sol," she answers right along with him, their voices coming out simultaneously as she knows his answer already.

"Coming right up," she winks and walks away. Dean watches her closely, his mind going to places it hasn't been in a long time when she bends over and reaches into the beer cooler to get his drink. He's never gotten sick of just staring at that ass and right now she's wearing one of the pairs of jeans that hugged her perfectly. Lately, however, he hasn't been looking at her like that. Neither have initiated anything concerning sex since they've moved here, minus his unfortunate encounter with her during their first week back. It just felt wrong at first to let sex have anything to do with their lives and with where their minds have been sex seemed selfish and unfair considering what Sam is going through. But damn it if she didn't look fucking hot as hell right about now.

"You know, I might be wrong here," she starts as she walks back, popping the cap on the beer and placing it in front of him before once more leaning onto the bar top. "And I don't believe that I am, but were you just checking me out?"

"So what if I was?" he plays right along, swigging his beer.

"Wouldn't matter if you were since, you know, we're married and all," Lizzy laughs a little. "But it's been a while. And I like when you check me out."

"Yeah?" Dean smirks.

"Oh yeah," she answers. "It means that even though I'm the ball and chain now you still want me. In marriage that's an accomplishment."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a second here," Dean holds out his hands to stop her. "First of all, you are  _not_  the ball and chain. Clearly you're the one stuck with me so I'm the heavy weight that's tied to your ankle and dragging you down."

"You don't weigh me down, honey. You just make life interesting in a challenging kind of way." She laughs at her own comment.

"Whatever you say," he rolls his eyes, knowing that his version is the truth. If anyone is holding anyone back it's him holding Lizzy back. He's always known that. "Second, trust that I will never, ever get sick of that body."

"For now…"

"What does that mean?" Dean asks her.

"Well, someday I'm gonna get old. Things will sag… and get wrinkly."

"Yeah if we live that long," Dean comments darkly.

"Well, we probably will," Lizzy let him know, seeing that he hasn't truly come to terms with their new life. "We don't hunt anymore. We don't put our lives in danger every day. We could easily live until a ripe old age where you need Viagra to get it up and I'm rocking some blue hair."

Wrinkling his brow and picking at the label of his beer, he thinks it over. She's completely right. Their lives are easy now. They live safer. Shit, he might one day get to see kids of his own have his grandkids. He's going to find out what his hair will look like while greying… or maybe even losing his hair all together. He'll get to see Lizzy with a walker and bifocals. Jesus. This is fucking weird.

"You never thought of that, did you?" Lizzy pries when he's been in his head for too long.

"Nah," Dean answers. "Not sure I know how to think that way. Just kinda assumed I'd be lucky to see thirty-five."

"Well Sam changed all that for us so get used to it," Lizzy tells him as she stands tall, ready to check on her customers. "And get used to me because we have years, and I mean _years_ , still left together."

He makes a disgusted face to which Lizzy balls up a napkin and throws it at his face.

"Relax," he tells her, smiling. "I can't wait to see you get old and fat and still want to fuck you every day."

"I'm gonna remember you said that when my boobs are sagging to my waist!" she points at him with an eyebrow arched.

"I hope you do," he says more to himself as she's already talking to one of the patrons at the other end of the bar.

As he drinks his beer, Dean's brain begins to get acquainted with the idea of old age. What a fucking concept. He's been old before when he lost fifty years of life to a witch in a poker game (Wow, and doesn't that sound ridiculous) and he hated it. But the more he thinks about it now, the aches and pains look a lot less shitty. He'll take every craptastic part of getting old if it gives him that many more years to spend with Lizzy.

* * *

 


	12. August 15th

* * *

It's been a particularly long session today, Lucifer being unforgivingly harsh. Because of that Sam's now completely beat.

Sitting in the corner of the small cell Lucifer was kind enough to create for him, he's huffing and trying to catch his breath. Sam closes his eyes and attempts to will away the pain he's feeling, well, everywhere. His face, his chest, his hands, even his hair… every exposed part of him is stained with his own blood. He's been torn apart today, Lucifer going for the old fashioned physical torture instead of the usually crueler mental stuff. Sam hates the mental stuff so, even though he's a mess and in pain even with having been put back together once done, he'd take this instead every time.

Running a hand through his hair, his fingers coming away even more bloody than before, he sighs. Lucifer has given him a break. He knows it won't last long but right at the moment he's alone and he's not in immediate anguish. This is one of those few and far between good moments.

The silence envelopes him as he closes his eyes. He listens to the pattern of his even breathing and realizes how longs it's been since he had an even tempo to him breathing. It's been panicked and quick or harsh and ragged with pain but rarely even with the chance to just be.

"Hiya, Sammy."

And the good moment just went to complete and total shit with the sound of  _that_  voice. Looking to the doorway he sees exactly who he knew he would. Besides the fact that he knows that voice possibly better than his own and still better than Lucifer's, only one person calls him Sammy anyways.

"Wow, dude… bad day down here?" Dean tells him with smooth levity once he really takes a look at his little brother covered in blood. Sam doesn't dignify this with an answer. "Guess that's what you get for becoming a monster topside, huh? A face-full of torture that could make you go insane."

Ah, the monster thing, Sam thinks to himself. He's heard this one a few times now from Dean-wearing-images and he's beginning to wonder if it'll have much of an effect on him for much longer. He getting used to it now.

"How's it going down here, anyways?" Dean asks as he begins walking slowly around the small cell while looking around. He drags his index finger down one of the cell bars in a small window that looks out over nothing but pitch-black darkness and when he pulls it away its covered in dirt and grime. "I see the maid hasn't been in yet today."

Sam just closes his eyes again. He leans his head back onto the stone brick wall behind him and sighs. He really doesn't want to have to do this again. He's already had to go through this about twenty times with imposter Dean and each time it sucked. Plus, he's exhausted right now. The effort it takes to put up with this shit will just tired him further.

"Aw, come on Sammy! Talk to me!" his big brother chides him on as Sam hears the footsteps come closer to him. "Don't just sit there and sulk like some moody little emo girl."

He has to hand it to Lucifer. He sure knows how to make a fake Dean sound just like the real thing. If Sam didn't know any better he might have second guessed if this image was the real thing or not.

"You know, kiddo," Dean starts once he reaches Sam's side. He crouches down to his little brother's level and looks right at him. "I gotta say... you look like total shit."

Sam lifts his head and figures what the fuck. He opens his eyes and looks at what could be an exactly clone of Dean. The green eyes are the right color, his short, dirty-blond hair is styled perfectly the way Dean always did and the crow's feet that have gotten deeper over time are even more obvious when he smiles. It's Dean through and through… even though it's not.

Sam smirks just slightly when he looks at his fake-brother.

"You're not Dean," Sam grins out, knowing how true it is.

"Don't be so sure of that," he winks right back. "So, you miss me?"

"No," Sam tells the fake Dean with all honesty. He misses his real brother, most definitely. But not this version.

"Sure you do," Dean brushes off with a grin. "You miss me, you miss Bobby, you miss L… you probably miss Rina the most though, huh?" He stands up and starts walking to the other side of the cell which isn't exactly far, pacing like Dean does. "Miss getting it in with that hot gypsy piece of ass?"

"Dean, don't," Sam half warns half asks in a tired voice. Dean rolls his eyes.

"What!? She was hot!" Fake Dean turns and points at Sam. "I was proud of you for that one, little brother. You finally started to learn from the master." He adjusts his green army jacket in a way that ensures he refers to himself as said master. "God I hope you wrecked that pussy…"

"Don't talk about her like that," Sam sharply warns without having meant to do it. He hates when he feeds into these encounters but talking about such a sweet and good girl like that just made him angry.

"Dude, relax. You barely knew her," Dean brushes off as he keeps going. "Ha, at first I figured you were nuts going after a chick like that. She was so closed off, so goody. Those kinda chicks are never any good when you get them alone."

"Jesus Christ," Sam complains as he sees where this is going. Soon enough Dean will truly cross the line and Sam will snap. He'll fall right into whatever it is that Lucifer is using to fuck with him and he'll attack. He's just so worn out though…

"See now, Rina's hot but I wouldn't have bothered with her," Dean continues to break it all down for Sam. "Jessica I would have totally went for. She's not your usual type either. You're not much of a meat on the bones kinda guy normally, but Jess? Ooh, nice heart-shaped ass, big tits… she just looked like fun. I would have paid good money to get into those panties before she burned up."

"Dean, stop," Sam asks in a tired but growingly annoyed tone. That was his first he's talking about so crudely… and the woman that had to die just for knowing him.

"But you know who I would give up my right nut to fuck?" Dean stands tall, pausing his pacing for dramatic effect and his eyes stare right at Sam. "Louise Becker."

And then the fury starts.

"Always have been a sucker for some blue eyes. And my God, what a body on her. Tight, petite, perfect… and her lips. Dude, DSLs like I've never seen! Please tell me she put them to good use and sucked your cock at least once before she went and got her head lopped off."

"Stop." Sam's voice is much harsher than even last time, his nostrils flaring.

"Hmm, you know what? I never told you about the night before we left Bobby's after staying there for a couple days once we killed those Nix in Oklahoma City, did I?"

This is when Sam gets sucked into it totally. His eyes shoot over to Dean with sheer morbid curiosity.

"Ha, guess not," his brother returns with levity when seeing the reaction he gets. "See, when I said I'd give my right nut to fuck her, I meant to add in again. I would give my right nut to fuck Lou… a second time."

"You're lying," Sam seriously states, wanting this whole thing to stop already.

"Oh, unlike you I don't lie to my family, Sammy," Dean very seriously tells Sam, receiving a hatred coated glare in return before moving on. "First I had a lovely little goodbye fuck with Lizzy, of course. Never could leave her without the proper bang session since I didn't know when I was gonna see her again and get another go with her."

" _Dean_ ," Sam warns, not wanting to hear any more.

"So Lizzy passes out after I totally wear her out but I was still wide awake, so I went to walk around the house and maybe find a beer. You were on the couch and, being the awesome brother that I am, I didn't want to wake you. So I went outside and found Lou sitting on the side steps. She couldn't sleep either. Lucky me, huh?"

"Shut up," Sam grits out, feeling a weird sudden urge to believe this version of Dean and what he says.

"We went to go hang out in the Impala. I turned on some Petty… you know that's about as good a panty dropper as tequila is to Lou… and the next thing you know she's practically tearing my pants off. In no time flat I had her screaming my name in the backseat." He smirks something proud and evil at Sam.

"You would never do that, not the real you."

"Sam, I banged your prom date when you were a senior. Of course I would do that!"

This Dean makes way too good a point. Way,  _way_  too good a point.

"And really it was all your fault that it happened at all. You should have just fucked her like she wanted you to that night so that I didn't have to. She practically begged you to stay in her room and you refused her like an idiot."

"I'd just met her, Dean. I cared about her. I wasn't trying to use her."

"And that's exactly why you never pulled enough tail, Sam. You have respect. I, on the other hand, don't. And I do quite well for myself."

Sam rubs his hands over his face and tries his hardest to remember this can't be real. This is all made up.

"Mm, she's a fucking wild one, that Lou," Dean fondly remembers. "Horniest chick I've ever met. And loud! She practically impaled herself on my dick once she pulled it out of my pants. Oh, and when I slapped her ass while I was fucking her from behind she begged me to do it again over and over and over… she probably had bruises for weeks. That little slut probably wore them with pride too."

"Ok," Sam says, standing up from the floor and ready to shut Dean up himself if need be. He's had far more than enough.

"Aw, you don't like me talking about your dead girlfriend like that?" Dean grins wide. "Though, then again, I guess she was never really yours. You were too much of a puss to claim that hot ass as your own while she was still kicking. I'm just happy I got my chance in before that vamp took her down."

"Stop!" Sam's fists clenched as he stares daggers into his brother.

"Ha, you know what? I can even prove to you that everything I'm telling you is the truth. I mean, how else would I know that every time she comes particularly hard, has the kind of orgasm that changes your life, she lets out this sexy little giggle when she's coming back down that is just, mm…"

Sam's heart drops to his feet with that detail. He knows. Dean fucking knows. That's something only someone that knew Lou intimately would know. All of it… it's completely true.

"Fuck you!" Sam charges across the small room, his hands clamping down around Dean's neck as he pushes him into the wall so harshly Dean's eye roll a bit.

"Sam," Dean struggles out through his constricted throat.

"You son of a bitch!" Sam snaps as he presses down hard on Dean's throat.

"I'd… do it… again… if I… could."

"I hate you!" Sam shouts in this version of Dean's face as his grip tightens. Dean can't speak now, his face red and mouth gasping for air but getting none. "I fucking hate you! Die!"

Sam, his teeth clenched with fury and his eyes piecing into Dean's, squeezes as hard as he can through his utter exhaustion. Dean's body starts to go slack and his green eyes grow more distant as the seconds tick away. They aren't focused on him anymore.

"Why would you do that to me, Dean!?" Sam screams in a totally broken voice as he watches the last of the light go out in the eyes he's looked at almost every day of his topside life. "Why the fuck would you do that!? You know how I felt about her!"

It's then with tears of fury in his eyes that he realizes Dean is long gone and he's still strangling the lifeless body.

He lets go and the Dean-a-like slumps onto the floor, his eyes still open.

"Such a fucking whore," Sam huffs with disgust as he walks back to his spot in the opposite corner of the room. He sits down again, just like before, and peers at the body across from him. His emotions are mixed but it almost shocks him for a split second when he realizes that it didn't hurt to kill his brother's image this time around. For the first time it felt pretty good.

"Why was sex always so important to you?" Sam keeps talking to the only other person in the room. It's rare that he has company of any kind so why not? "Why, Dean? It trumped hunting and dad… and me. You always picked slutty chicks over your own brother. You ditched me to fool around all the fucking time. But why?"

The dead body doesn't speak back.

"I don't get it," Sam keeps going, airing something that has upset him for so long, since he was a young kid. "You were all I had and at the drop of a hat you'd abandon me for some half-ugly piece of desperate ass. Do you know what that did to me!?"

Again, silence from the dead Dean.

"Lucifer has used clowns to scare the fucking shit out of me so many times… and they wouldn't even bother me if it wasn't for you ditching me a Plucky's all the fucking time to get your dick wet." Sam shakes his head in disgust as he relives these times in his head. "You're fucking pathetic. You had to get girls to fawn all over you just to feel good about yourself. It's sad. And all the while I was sitting there, with you every day, and you never even noticed how much I looked up to you. Dad was always your hero… and you never knew you were mine. You never took the second to really see it. Such an asshole."

Taking a deep breath to calm himself and try to stop the misery from getting worse, Sam starts to feel remorse while he thinks a little harder about it all.

"I just wanted you to see it," Sam says, his voice now sad instead of angry. "I wish you knew how much respect I had for you even back then, even when chasing tail and ignoring me. And with all my mistakes in life, all the horrible things I've done…" Sam stares right into Dean's empty ones. "I just wanted you to have even a fraction of that amount of respect for me. But I kept letting you down. I let you down so many times…"

Sam wipes his eyes and tries not to get any of his own smeared blood into them.

"And you didn't ever fuck Lou," Sam begins to rationalize as he sniffles. "You've done a lot of fucked up shit in your day but you would never have done that to me… Lizzy either. I know you and you wouldn't. You're not that horrible."

But… is he?

* * *

 


	13. August 23rd

* * *

"How's it looking?" Lizzy asks, walking out to Dean where his head is ducked under the hood of the Mustang. They were leaving in about an hour to head for the car show and he noticed that morning that there was a weird rattling going on when the engine idled. Even if it isn't a cosmetic issue he wanted it gone before showing it off. It may not be his car personally but he felt a real need to make sure Lou's own baby was in perfect condition. If he knows that grease monkey like he thinks he does, Lou would have her car nothing less than immaculate for the occasion. In honor of her, he makes sure it is.

"Good," he says to her without standing up. "Think I found the cause of the rattling."

"Awesome," Lizzy smiles right back, her hand on his shoulder as she walks up to him. She looks over the car, the Guardsman Blue paint job gleaming in the sun. "You really did a hell of a job on her."

"Lou would want it that way, right?" he asks her, pulling his arm out of the car and putting aside the ratchet he was using.

"Definitely," she answers back, a struggled smile on her lips. Damn she misses her sister, especially today.

"Hey," Dean starts when he looks her over. She looks good today. She has on some short denim shorts that leave her long legs bare. He realizes right now that he's never once seen her in jean shorts since the weekend they met. She always had pants on for their former job. She's wearing her combat boots and she has on a tight, black t-shirt with vintage Chevy logo from around the time his car was made. Her hair is done, ironed straight and sweeping over her eye. She had just a little make up on, her eyeliner winged out at the corners. She looks amazing. "You're looking good today."

"Oh yeah?" she smiles right back, excited that he noticed.

"Definitely," he tells her, stepping closer to put his arm around her and she instantly backs away.

"Nah-uh," she denies him when she looks at his hands. "You're covered in grease."

"Damn it," he complains quietly.

"We have to leave soon so finish up and take a shower," she tells him, a kiss on his cheek before she turns to head back into the apartment.

"Yeah, yeah," he brushes her off and dives right back into the car.

A few more minutes of tinkering and Dean's suddenly on high alert. He knows this feeling. He's being watched.

Slowly he straightens up, still keeping his eyes trained on the engine while he processes the odd feeling. He then searches around him using his periphery only and he catches nothing. He picks up a rag and wipes his hands on it and lets his eyes wander. He scans his surroundings; the side yard of their apartment, the small lot out back, the street out front… nothing still. Then he looks to the street running along the side of the property and freezes.

Sam.

He's standing right there. On the other side of the street his huge, imposing little brother is standing on the sidewalk while looking right at him.

Dean blinks as a truck passes by and when he looks again the sidewalk is empty. No Sam.

Shaking his head as his heart rate soars, Dean tries to figure out what just happened. He looked so real. That was his Sammy standing right there but he was gone so fast. This makes no sense.

Dean wants answers. He walks to the sidewalk on his side of the street and looks both ways. There's no one even walking down the street that he could have mistaken as his brother. Damn it, what just happened? Why would his brain play such a cruel joke on him like that?

He starts to walk back to the Mustang when he hears an engine roar. Turning to look out of habit and love of a great sounding engine, Dean catches the all black Dodge Charger speeding off down the road from behind a neighboring apartment complex. Nice car, not too bad. It was a piece of modern day plastic however and his respect for newer cars isn't exactly high but the SRT8 model is still pretty fucking badass. Respectable enough, even if he'd never say it aloud. Either way, he'll take a classic beauty any day of the week.

He picks up the tools sitting in front of the Mustang and heads into the house with the eerie feeling sticking with him all the while. Whatever the hell just happened is unnerving him completely. His Spidey-Sense is tingling and he hopes this isn't the beginning of some kind of psychotic breakdown. They've been through enough.

* * *

As Sam drives away behind the wheel of his stolen Charger, he struggles to figure out why it was that he felt compelled to go to Dean. The second he was topside he was well aware that his first step needed to be go see his brother… or at least that's what he was  _supposed_  to do. Before the pit all he ever wanted was to make sure Dean was ok, Lizzy too. They both meant the world to him beforehand and nothing was ever more important than their wellbeing. But now? Now he doesn't know what he feels. Even more bothersome he thinks he might not feel anything for them at all.

That's exactly why he didn't let Dean see him just now. When he was making his way over to their apartment, staying cautious and out of sight from across the street, he could see Dean working on Lou's car. He looked engrossed as ever, just like he always did when working on the Impala. Then a few moments later out came Lizzy checking on him. They looked so good, almost happy. They even looked, dare he say it, normal.

They weren't hunting. He saw the open trunk of the Impala next to the Mustang and there were no weapons in it like usual. Dean had taken them all out. That must mean he got out.  _They_  got out.

This confused Sam greatly. Sure, he remembers telling Dean he wanted them out of the life for good and he remembers Dean promising to do so… but Sam can't understand this. Right now, for the first time ever, Sam's mind is clear. He's a hunter and he hunts things to rid the world of the evil shit he's always gone after. End of story. There was nothing else. He didn't crave anything but the hunt to satisfy his basic need for blood and carnage and sex to satisfy his basic lust… and that's about it. So how is it that two former hunters are calling it quits? Don't they have the need to kill anymore? Don't they want revenge and blood on their hands again? Did they find a way to let it all go? How?

Pulling onto the highway to head out of town, Sam does slightly feel two things. First, he feels a little tug of letdown. He did hope to see Dean unhappy, or maybe still in fighting form. Sam could have used a partner that he could trust and his brother is someone he could always trust to have his back, but right now that isn't Dean. He's out of shape, his body clearly a bit weaker these days, and he's not in the right frame of mind at all. He's a shell of the great hunter he once was and Sam will not deal with weakness dragging him down. He wants a partner, not an obstacle to hold him back.

Second, he realized how fucking hot Lizzy was. Maybe his brain shut her out for good reason for most of these years, but she was looking damn good just now in her denim shorts and tight t-shirt. He knows somewhere in what used to be his conscience it's wrong to bang someone's wife, especially one's own brother's wife, but if the opportunity presented itself he knows he wouldn't say no. It doesn't help that he already knows she's a wild one. Dean never could shut his mouth about how much fun he's had with her. Now Sam's curiosity is certainly peaked and he wants to know if she can handle him.

The trip was a bust and Sam knows it. However, he holds out hope that one day Dean will come back. He knows that man and as much as he wants that quiet, normal life, he wants the gore too. Dean's a true hunter at heart, he has been all his life. When he's ready and back in shape Sam will be happy to have him back.

But for now it's time to set down some roots and therefore it's on to the next logical step. Off to Bobby's.

* * *

"Holy mother of God," the stranger comments as he walks up to the Impala with wide eyes.

As the man stands in front of the black car, his face filled with excitement, Dean and Lizzy look over to him as they stand between their beauties talking and sipping on some beers.

"This car… is beautiful," he tells them when he looks over. "She yours?"

"Sure is," Dean answers with sheer pride in his voice. "Had her my whole life."

"Damn," he awes, walking slowly around the car. "You know, I've been after an Impala just like this for so long. We had one growing up and it's kind of a personal thing for me."

"This was my dad's and he passed it down to me so I know what you mean." Dean steps up next to the guy once he settles on standing in front of the grill, looking over the engine.

"That a 327?" he questions while nodding under the open hood.

"Nah, 427," Dean says with love and a smirk. "V8 4-barrel. She can haul some serious ass."

"No shit," he says in return and holds out his hand to Dean. "Mike Lewis."

"Dean Winchester," he says, using his real name and almost shocking himself over it. He can't remember the last time he did that. Felt good. He shakes the guy's hand.

"She's in perfect condition," he tells Dean, looking back to the car. "This is the exact car we had when I was a kid. I used to ride in the back with my sister, fighting the entire ride to wherever we were going, driving Pop nuts the whole way. God damn, never thought I'd come across another like it."

Dean lets the man recall his memories, knowing well that a car can seriously hold so much about a person's life.

"Ours was red, though," Mike says. "Dad liked to show off a bit."

Lizzy leans against the Mustang and watches the two of them silently.

"Red's not really my color," Dean jests a bit and Mike laughs.

"Mine either but hey, that was dad," he returns. "You ever thought about selling her?"

"God no!" Dean responds loudly with an appalled face, the thought alone scaring him to near death. "I couldn't. She's my baby."

"I understand, though I woulda paid you a pretty penny for her," Mike sadly responds, clearly having been ready to give him an offer for the Impala that most wouldn't refuse. "Who do you go to for work?"

"Nowhere. Do it all myself." Ok, now he's just bragging and he knows it.

"Bullshit."

"Seriously man, I do everything," Dean confirms. "From oil changes up to engine work and paint job, I do everything myself. I've even rebuilt her after a pretty huge accident. She was totaled but I couldn't let her go. She's been too good to me to give up on her."

"Huh," Mike nods, the gears in his head clearly spinning. "You clearly like getting dirty?"

"Oh absolutely," Dean confirms, his arms crossing over his chest. "You don't have to think about anything else when working on a car like this. It's just you and your girl and the work to be done." The faraway look washes over his face. "Man, the hours I've spent with this one… she's gotten me through a lot in life." There couldn't be anything truer to be said. This past week Dean's felt better than he has in a very long time because he's had working on his car to distract him. He loves his car with everything he has in him. Hell, Lizzy's the only thing he seriously loves more than Baby.

"Well you're definitely good at what you do," Mike tells him as he takes out his wallet.

"Thanks," Dean responds and sees that Mike is holding out a business car in his direction.

"Look, I'm still on the prowl for another one. I've been looking for a few years now and haven't found exactly what I want… until now. Figures I can't have it, right?"

"Sorry, man," Den laughs a bit and takes the card from him.

"No I understand," Mike responds with a smile. "This is a car of a lifetime, my friend."

Dean peers at him funny, aware that he's said this very thing before about his car to his father.

"But," Mike continues on. "If I do come across one, chances are it won't be looking quite like this. When that happens I need someone who can take on the restoration."

"Yeah?" Dean asks, reading the business card. Michael Lewis, CPA. He's an accountant and, by the looks of him, one with plenty of expendable cash.

"I would love to have someone on the job who actually knows what he's doing and after seeing this beauty," Mike nods at the Impala. "I know I could trust you."

"No shit," Dean awes as he quickly glances to Lizzy. She lifts her eyebrows in excitement over the possible opportunity.

"Here," he hands over a second card and a pen. "Write down your number on the back and I'll be sure to give you a call if I come up with the right car."

"Sure," Dean answers, shocked at the opportunity laid before him. Working on a car for cash? Seems like an easy thing to agree to. He writes his name and number down and hands it back.

"I really hope I call you soon, Dean," Mike jokes a bit before he catches sight just behind Dean of the woman and the car next to him.

"Me too." Dean does hope he calls. He then follows Mike's eye line behind him. "You like Mustangs too?"

"Who doesn't?" Mike asks while walking past Dean and looking over Lou's car. He looks to Lizzy as she leans against the driver's side door. "This one yours?"

"It was my sister's," she smiles a bit and stands up. "It was left in my hands once… she passed on."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Mike says to her when he hears the pain hidden deep in her voice.

"No. It's ok," she answers back as Dean steps up next to her. He drops an arm around her shoulders, getting the feeling that she's having a moment with the mention of Lou. "She loved this car so much that it's become a reminder of her every time I drive it. It's nice to have around."

"Wait," Mike says with confusion as Dean stands next to her. "You're together?"

"Married," Lizzy explains.

"So you have a '67 Impala and a… 64?" he questions his assessment and Lizzy nods that he's right. "'64 Mustang under one roof?"

"Yes we do," Dean grins wide, his cheeks barely remembering how it felt to do so.

"Hell of a household," he comments a he ducks his head under the hood. "You work on this one too, Dean?"

"All week to get her ready," he admits. "She was in storage for a few years and needed some loving."

"She sure got it," he comments right back while studying the engine that's in perfect working order.

"She sure did," Dean grins at Lizzy and pulls her tighter.

* * *

Dropping heavily onto the couch, Dean sighs and settles in after a long day on his feet. "I'm fucking beat."

"But happy you went, right?" Lizzy pries, kicking her boots off and walking to the opposite end of the couch.

"Definitely," he tells her as he watches her. She lifts his legs up and scoots onto the couch before placing his legs back onto her lap. "You were right. It was good to get out."

"Whoa! Did you just voluntarily say I was right about something?" she asks, eyes wide and full of amusement.

"Shit, I did, didn't I?" Dean smirks right back.

"Yep."

"Well, it's true," he shrugs, willing to let her have her moment.

"You did look like you were having a good time," Lizzy adds, having truly enjoyed simply watching him all day. He really took the reins. Lizzy wasn't joking when she said she knew nothing about cars. Dean however knew everything. He may not have been around Lou's Mustang very much but knew everything about it and was able to takeover for her whenever anyone wanted to converse about it. He actually looked happy for the first time since he lost his brother.

"I really did," he nods, his eyes closing a little with how tired he is. That was the most activity he's had for far too long now.

"And I have to say, Dean… seeing you today," she starts while moving out from under his legs. "Talking cars, getting excited about something, being so knowledgeable," Lizzy starts crawling up his body. "It was kinda hot to watch you."

"You found me talking about cars hot?" he says with utter disbelief as she straddles his hips.

"So hot," he admits, her hands pressed to his chest as she leans forward. "You were so in your element. You knew so much, spoke with such pride in your baby… I don't know. It was a total turn on." She slowly presses her lips to his, giving him a kiss that meant business. She wasn't joking. He kept her hot and bothered all day as she continually got to have glimpses of the Dean she remembers and loves so damn much. It also didn't hurt that he had on a black t-shirt and no jacket with the summer heat. She loved him in a perfectly fitted t-shirt without other layers to hide his great body. It never failed to make her want to peel that single layer right off of him.

He kisses her back but quickly grows a bit anxious. Once she ends it he pulls away. "You're crazy."

" _For you_ ," she says in a purposefully lame way before heading back in for another kiss. This time Dean ends it early.

"I'm fucking pooped," he tells her, heading her off at the pass and ending her attempt at something.

"It's fine," she smiles wide and jokes. "You can just lay there. I'll do all the work." Lizzy tries to kiss him again and this time he stops her before she can make it to his lips.

"Lizzy," he says her name in an apologetic way.

"Baby, come on," she pleading says to him. "It's been so long."

"I know, I just…." Dean stops when he fails to find the words to explain. "I can't… feels wrong."

Lizzy watches the pain wash over his face. She understands immediately. He feels guilty.

"It's ok," she tries to assure him. "Sam wanted this life for us. He wanted us to live normal and our normal is definitely having sex… a  _lot_  of sex."

Dean smiles softly but isn't convinced. He just hasn't been able to get in the mood to be physical with her. He can't get past it all enough.

"Alright, let me try this then," Lizzy goes for a different approach. "I have been patient and I have been holding back a lot because I knew you weren't ready or whatever this is. But Dean, I am dying here. Dying. I need you. You know I need attention and you know I need to express how I feel for you."

He can't stop the smile on his face when she says this. He'll always get a little boost from hearing her say how badly she needs him. That will never get old.

"I saw you checking me out at the bar the other day and today at the car show. You've been thinking about it. I know you have."

He doesn't answer yet his silence gives him away.

"I promise it's ok."

He’s so conflicted it hurts. 

“And if you don’t give me a little something here, right now… I swear I will take matters into my own hands out of desperate need.  It’s been way too fucking long.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Dean says to her, assuming she’s exaggerating her condition.

“I’m not being dramatic.”  She watches Dean roll his eyes and it pushes her into action.  “Fine.  You don’t believe me, that’s fine.”  Lizzy sits up and moves back to the other end of the couch, her back against the arm and her body facing him as she sits between his outstretched legs.  “But I wasn’t joking.”

Lizzy opens her jean shorts and starts pulling them down her legs.

“L, what the fuck are you doing?” Dean asks with annoyance.

“I’m doing exactly what I said I would.”  She tosses her shorts aside with an air of nonchalance and sits back. 

“Are you kidding me?” Dean wonders with a mix of disbelief and sheer curiosity.

“No,” she sternly says as she settles in until comfortable.  Lizzy spreads her legs and looks right at him as her hand smooths over her panties down and up one slow time.  “You haven’t left me much of a choice here.”

Dean swallows hard as he considers his situation.  Sex, for the first time in his life, seemed so frivolous and totally selfish... and he _wasn’t_ ok with that.  He wants her, he does.  Dean’s never not wanted Lizzy since the day he walked into Bobby’s house and found her sitting on that threadbare couch.  It took one look at her, her dark bangs shading her bright brown eyes, her curvy frame covered in tight jeans and a Zeppelin t-shirt, and her smile, God her fucking huge, perfect smile, to make him want to devour her instantly.  But now, even with Lizzy threatening to give him a beautiful, sexy, brain melting show, that feeling that he doesn’t deserve to still have this, not while Sam is suffering the worst there is to suffer, nags him.

“Last chance here, baby,” Lizzy says as her fingers disappear under the top of her black panties, dancing over her with intent.  “Either you make me moan or I do it myself.”

Facing her, his legs bending up and giving her plenty of room, the dilemma in his mind grows with each movement of her fingers under the cotton cloth covering her. 

“Mm,” Lizzy moans out, her hips gyrating just slightly as she really lets herself get going, pressing her fingers down a little harder.  “You really did get me all worked up today, Hot Shot.”

Torn completely, Dean tries to let his focus wander elsewhere in the room but to no avail.  He can’t help it.  His eyes always land right back on her.

She moans a little louder before pausing to pull her t-shirt over her head.  She continues on in just her bra and panties, her hand quickly right back onto herself beneath her underwear.

“Dean,” she hums to herself, allowing her own actions to overwhelm her senses.  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to live with you and not get to touch you?”

Dean peers at her and swallows hard when he sees that she’s staring right at him, the lust in her eyes strong and serious.

“All I’ve wanted for weeks was to be able to feel you again,” she keeps telling him, her voice breathy as she works her own self up.  Going in for the added visual assault, Lizzy quickly pulls her underwear down her legs and kicks them off.  She smiles with want to him as she spreads her legs wider than before and continues on. 

He’s slowly coming to terms with his mourning losing its battle against his need for her.  His own dick is making a compelling argument for giving it good to Lizzy right about now, it standing at full attention with desperate need to be used, just as his guilt is trying to deny him the pleasure of doing so.

“Baby, I just need you so much,” she tells him, her free hand creeping upward and grasping onto her breast over her bra.  “You know I do… don’t you?”

Looking at her, his tongue flicking out over his lips absentmindedly, he does in fact know how much she needs him.  It’s just as much as he needs her.  Staying away has grown tougher and tougher as it is and this is just breaking down his defenses for good.  He grips hard onto his thighs as he watches on.

“I miss your hands on me,” she explains further, her fingers pressing firm circles into her as she keeps on staring right at him.  “They do the best things to me too.  Make me crazy just with the way you touch me.  And I need that dick, Dean.”  She lets two fingers slowly slip inside of her as Dean sits up a little taller with the sight.  “Oh, I love your cock.  Feels so much better than my fingers do.”  Massaging herself in just the right way, the pads of her fingers pressing into just the right spot with each withdrawal, she moans a little louder and closes her eyes.  “Please.  Please, let me have what I need.  I’ve been so good, so patient.”

She’s totally right.  Dean knows she’s been good, perfect really, and she has been exceptionally patient with him.  And damn it did everything about her look so inviting in the moment.  With all the sacrifices and things she’s done for him maybe he can find it in him to buck up and be kind to her in return.

“I just want you to fuck me,” she moans out as her head drops back, eyes still closed as her hand moves faster.  “I need you to fuck me so badly.  I would give anything… Oh God!”

Lizzy’s head flies up when she feels his hand on her.  She opens her eyes to find Dean kneeling between her spread legs, one hand opening his jeans in a frenzy and the other between her legs, working her clit as she had her own fingers still inside of her.

“Oh fuck,” she says with very happy surprise as she looks up to his green eyes, locking in with them.  “Thank you, baby.”

Not stopping, Dean leans forward and plants his lips on her hers, kissing her with sudden urgent need as he wriggles out of his pants and kicks them off. 

“God, I missed you,” Lizzy tells him between kisses, removing her hand from herself and tugging at his shirt, the both of them moving quickly.  His black t-shirt flies over his head and Lizzy is instantly shoving down his boxer briefs.  Once he’s naked Dean moves in close and swiftly enters her with his ever growing impatience. 

“Fuck,” Dean breathes out at the same time as Lizzy arches her back and moans something deep and grateful with the feeling of him inside of her.  Neither move at first and Dean knows for sure now that she was absolutely right.  It’s been far too long that he’s denied himself this.  The guilt melts away completely as desire grips him hard.

“Oh I love that dick,” Lizzy declares within a groan of sheer appreciation.  “Fuck me, Dean.  Please.”

Never needing to be told such a thing twice, he grabs her hips and pulls her down the couch sharply until she’s lying flat on her back.  He replaces his hand right back between her legs as he kneels upright and begins working into her, his fingers working quickly as no sex for two months is going to make this a fast one for him.

“Oh, yes.  Dean,” Lizzy moans out, loving everything that’s happening.  Not since she and Dean first met and had to wait months before seeing each other again has she refrained from having sex for so long… and she may have still had a couple of guys in that timeframe.  She’s so happy that words might not even do it justice.  When Sam left it devastated her and she never even allowed herself to fully recognize how bad it was affecting her.  She held it together for her man and buried her own needs for so long.  But recently all she’s needed was the touch of someone who cared and the loving contact of the one person who felt her pain and needed her just as much as she needed him.  All she’s asked for is Dean’s love both mentally and physically and she’s finally gotten it back.

Needing him closer, Lizzy reaches up and brings a hand to either side of Dean’s neck before pulling him down to her and into a burning, needy kiss. 

Dean hums from deep in his throat, his voice gruff with need as he thrusts into her.  The relief he didn’t expect to find melts slowly over him, coating him in comfort and a warmth he forgot she could give him… oh hell, a warmth he completely forgot existed at all.

She clutches tight to his jawline with both her hands, breathing hard and soaking in the contact. 

Dean presses his forehead against hers as he leans over her.  She loses his helping hand when he brings it up to brace himself on the couch arm.  It doesn’t matter.  She doesn’t need the added help to feel everything she’s supposed to in the moment. 

“Lizzy,” Dean says quietly, a whisper meant for just himself. 

Lizzy pulls him down to her lips with quick force.  She kisses him with full intent to let him know how she’s feeling.  Trailing his lips to her neck soon after, he keeps pushing into her with all he has. 

Clutching to him hard, her eyes rolling back as she enjoys this moment, one that used to be all too familiar and has become all too distant, she moans into his ear, just how she always used to love to do before Sam went away. 

“I need you,” she groans out.  “Oh fuck, Dean.  Need you.”

She then clamps her hands down onto Dean’s forearms, clutching so hard it hurt a bit.  Nothing he couldn’t handle, of course, and he’d let her break his arms if it meant he got to see her enjoying her life this much.  As it takes just record time for her to find her desperately needed and beautiful end, he watches her with absolute love.  He let this go for months.  He let this moment of perfection, this wonderful moment of Lizzy’s utter enjoyment and complete solace from her current disastrous and sad life, go unseen and unfelt before now.  He wishes he could go back and change it all.

Lizzy’s back arched hard, her muscles tensed and her spirit open and accepting of his, she’s overcome.  She needed this so badly and after so long without it this feels even better than she remembers it ever being.  The white hot bliss travels throughout her body and the release makes life feel livable again.

Breathing deeply, eyes closed as it all washes over her, Lizzy slowly pries her lids open once her moment passes just in time to see Dean’s face wrinkle with concentration and deep pleasure.  He’s right there, right on the edge.  She presses her lips to his once, doing all that she can to keep reminding Dean why this was a perfect, fantastic idea in the first place.  She pulls him close, her lips to his ear.

“It’s ok, baby,” she informs him with absolute honesty.  “Let me make you happy.  Let go, Dean.”

And he loses it completely.  With her unnecessary permission Dean comes hard.  Her words almost release him from his unseen binds that keep him in a terrible place every damn day.  She let him feel good again. 

“Fuck, Lizzy,” he barely is able to grit out as he pushes a few more times into her, letting go of all his pent up fears and sadness. 

And then he’s on her, his weight wrapped around her smaller frame as his body shudders through the last of his orgasm, the first one he’s allowed himself to have in so long.

They both lay there, Lizzy under him as she sighs happily with a hand running through his short hair and Dean lying atop her as he breathes heavily with the moment.

“I needed that so much,” Lizzy tells him with complete honesty as her arms wrap tightly around his back.  “I know you needed that too.”

Dean nods and keeps his voice silent as he overcomes one of his several new fears that have developed since Sam left him.  He’s feared leaving his home, he’s feared actually having a real home for once, he’s feared talking to other people, living like a normal human being, the possible dissolution of his marriage, and finding a way to be intimate with the love of his life once again.  Pleasure had crept into the category of not allowed for him anymore but he was able to push past it. 

“I’m sorry I took so long,” he tries to joke as he looks down at her, a slight smile on his lips.

"I don't care," Lizzy tells him, a hand to his cheek. "I will take what I can get when I can get it from you. I know how hard this is still." She kisses him sweetly once. "I know how hard it'll always be. But just remember what Sam wanted. Apple pie, right?"

"Right," he answers back, the guilt lessening with her support and reminder.

"Well, my version of an apple pie life includes you fucking my brains out now and then," she huffs a laugh. "Think you can handle that?"

"Yeah, I can definitely handle that," Dean laughs a bit and pulls her in again, hugging her tight and sighing.

* * *

 


	14. August 26th

* * *

Back into the swing of things. Phones ringing, dusty book opened all over the house, he's back to work. It feels pretty good, Bobby has to admit to himself. Damn good actually.

After Rufus came by it's been a whole new world for the seasoned hunter. He began answering his many calls, sending hunters out when he caught wind of something, and even left the house to help out a family two towns over with a ghost problem. Sure, he still has his bad days, but a few weeks have gone by and the bad days seem to be farther and farther apart. In fact, it's been a whole five days since his last hard black out. That's true progress.

As he reads through some Japanese text about an ancient poltergeist-style spirit to help a not so bright hunter friend (Garth really is a lovable idjit deep down though…) he hears a car roaring up his driveway. He's not expecting anyone, he never is, and the car sounds new. Really new. What the hell would a new car be doing visiting his scrap yard?

Looking out the kitchen window he gets a view of the 2006 Dodge Charger SRT8. The all black, super powerful machine gleams in the sun. Nice ride Bobby has to think, even if he is more of a classic model kind of guy.

The passenger gets out and as soon as he does the alarm bells go off in Bobby's head. The tall man unfolds himself, his long hair slightly covering his face from Bobby's vantage point but he doesn't need to see the guy's face to know who it's supposed to be.

Grabbing his salt-round loaded shotgun and a silver knife Bobby barrels through his side door to greet his visitor.

"You must be the stupidest piece of shit monster I have ever come across!" Bobby bellows with sheer anger as he cocks his sawed off and takes immediate aim. "Get the fuck off my property before I make Swiss cheese of yer ass!"

"Bobby," the Sam-looking mother fucker greets with a slight smile. "Put the gun down."

"I don't think you're in any position to be tellin' me what to do," he responds steadfast and ready with his gun aimed. "I'm givin' you a one-time offer of fleein' and never using that particular form again before I kill ya'. You wanna stay then you better kiss you own ass before biddin' it farewell."

"Damn it," the Sam-alike complains while maintaining an oddly calm demeanor. Hands on hips as he looks at the older hunter, he just sighs with a forced half smile. "Shoulda known this wasn't gonna be a picnic. Bobby, I swear to you… it's me."

"And I've been through this shit before…"

"And it was really Dean, wasn't it?" Sam reminds him, trying to prove his identity without getting shot.

"But you ain't really Sam!" his anger topples him as he shouts to the thing in front of him. No fucking way is this happening to him again. He can't hack another go around of saying goodbye and then being ambushed with a Return of the Living Dead part two. He just can't do it again.

"Yeah, I am," Sam tries again, taking a very self-assured step forward… only to be greeted by the sound of a shotgun blast loudly echoing through the air. He freezes as he looks at Bobby with wide, shocked eyes.

"The next one won't be aimed at the clouds," he warms, his shotgun being cocked and re-aimed at the mystery creature.

"Just listen to me for a second!" Sam requests of his father figure, his hands out in surrender but his voice stern. "You know me, Bobby. And I know you. What can I do to prove I'm me?"

Pausing, Bobby just stares down the thing before him. His words, the way he speaks and thinks… he's logical and clear, willing to talk things out and prove himself. This is very much like the Sam he said goodbye to less than two months ago.

Pulling out the silver knife from his back pocket, Bobby tosses the weapon at the Sam copy, it landing with a thud at his feet.

"You can start with some silver," he instructs. "You know what to do."

Still looking up at Bobby as he keeps one hand out to show he's not there to cause trouble, Sam picks up the sliver knife. He rolls up the sleeve of his plaid shirt and makes an even slice into his arm just below the crook of his elbow. No sizzle. No reaction. Just red blood.

"See?" Sam forces a smile. "It's me."

"Big deal, so you ain't a shifter," Bobby eyes him cautiously. He then reaches into his house, his hand landing on the counter off to the side and feeling around for the flask he has there. Without taking his sights off of Sam he throws him the metal flask. Sam catches it. "Drink up."

"You should get some salt too," Sam suggests confidently as he opens the container. He takes a swig and once more nothing happens.

"Huh," Bobby says aloud with a little surprise as he lowers his shotgun. He pops the barrel open and pulls out a salt round. He then tosses that over too. "Here you go, Sammy."

"It's Sam," he corrects as he uses the silver knife to cut open the round. The remark doesn't go by unnoticed. Bobby called him Sammy on purpose, knowing the real deal would correct him. No one calls him Sammy… except for Dean, of course.

Once he dumps some grains of salt into his palm, Sam quickly knocks them back and swallows.

"We cleared this one up yet?" he says with slight impatience.

Bobby glares at the man with still going suspicion. Something still doesn't feel right. He's not just going to buy it that easily.

"Gimme the rundown and we might be ok," Bobby tells him as he adjusts the shotgun in his hold and Sam rolls his eyes with a heavy sigh.

"I'm Samuel Winchester. I was born on May second, 1983. I have a brother Dean born on January twenty-fourth which is the same day as my college girlfriend Jessica… who died because of me. My mom died in my nursery in a fire after Azazel bled in my mouth and dicked me over for life when I was exactly six months old. My dad died in 2006 when that same douche bag demon made a deal with him to save Dean's life in exchange for dad's soul. My life is fucking cursed but at least the apocalypse is over, right?" Sam huffs. "You need any more?"

Arching an eyebrow, Bobby says nothing but lets his hard expression say for him that it isn't nearly enough. Any demon or spirit or monster taking Sam's form could glean that basic info from him easily.

"Alright, um… you've been like a father to me way before my own even died. You picked up the pieces John dropped for Dean and me our whole lives. The first time we stayed with you, you made us macaroni and cheese for lunch and when I pissed the bed the first night you didn't even complain. You told me it was alright and accidents happen while Dean bitched since he was in the same bed as me and I got his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pajamas wet… though I still say I improved them. Those things were lame."

Nodding just slightly, Bobby starts to come around. He remembers that night. The poor runt was so embarrassed yet at the same time he was days away from being three and he'd just gotten the whole potty training thing down… mostly. Dean had upset him by making fun and Bobby's heart just melted for the kid.

"You were also the only one on my side when I wanted to take down Lucifer Hara-Kari style. Lizzy and Dean said hell no. They thought I couldn't do it or they weren't willing to take the chance on me, but not you. You knew all along I could do it, had full faith in me, and that's more than any other person has ever done for me before." Sam stares at Bobby for a moment with a blank stare. "I never thanked you for that, did I?"

Swallowing hard as he's starting to see that this might be the real deal, Bobby blinks once. "My wife's name?"

"Karen. She was beautiful and she could make pies that brought Dean to his knees."

"You're daddy's storage room?"

"It's in a castle on a hill made of forty-two dogs." Sam smirks with his reference. "Or better, it's in Castle Storage at forty-two Rover Hill in upstate New York. He has everything seriously important that he's ever come across in there… including Dean's first sawed off that he made himself and my soccer trophy from the only soccer team I've ever been able to be in. It was from 95'. I had been in fourth grade."

"And that ring hangin' 'round your neck?" Bobby nods to the back leather cord with a silver band tied to it.

His hand comes up and rests over the ring through the t-shirt it's tucked into. He sighs for effect. "It's Louise Becker's ring. Her best friend and half-sister Lizzy Winchester gave it to me after she passed away. She wanted me to have a way to remember Lou after she turned vamp and that bitch Ruby offed her to save my ass." He nods and keeps his hard to maintain sullen expression in place. "Lou and I… we were… she was very important to me once."

"Once?" Bobby questions, knowing for a fact that Lou never lost an ounce of importance to Sam.

"Still," he corrects quickly. "When I lost her I lost a huge part me and I was never the same. I lost my chance at something really, really great. I think she loved me, or at least I hope she did… because I loved her."

"Sam?" Bobby checks one last time as he lowers his shotgun to his side and walks down the four steps at his side door.

"Yeah," Sam answers back, confirming it's him.

"Boy…" he starts, walking right up to his formerly lost son. "You kids are gonna put in me the ground one of these days." With a deep breath, Bobby pulls Sam into him and hugs him tight, almost as if he's making sure the kid is real and really there. Biting back his tears, he pats Sam on his back a few times and stays there. It felt too good to have him back to let him go just yet.

Sam is the first to back away, taking a step and sharing a grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"What the fucking hell?" Bobby questions in a shaky tone with a little laugh at the end.

"I have no idea," Sam says honestly. "I just kinda… appeared. In that cemetery near Lawrence. I was alone and the place looked the same as before my swan dive but… I was there."

"Jesus, Sam," Bobby shakes his head, still wrapping his mind around the idea that this is happening at all. "Get your ass inside. We need to talk."

"Sounds good," Sam says. "I could use a beer."

"I could use more than one," Bobby grumbles back as Sam walks past him towards the house. It's then that he really looks at the pristine car in his driveway. "What's with the wheels?"

"My new ride," Sam answers, pausing and looking at Booby. "Figured it was time I got a car that was actually made for hunting."

Sam smiles an empty smile before heading into the house. Bobby's left standing there, eyeing over the highly unlikely choice of car for his son. He knows Sam well enough to be sure that he'd never say the Impala was anything less than home. Now he's left feeling like something is wrong with this scenario… besides the sheer fact that Sam somehow crawled out of the cage, naturally.

* * *

"So I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say you haven't stopped by to see your brother yet."

Taking the seat across from Sam where he's already sitting at his kitchen table, Bobby starts in on the grilling. He's pretty sure it's Sam but something is off and he wants to know what.

"Yeah," Sam nods but quickly corrects himself. "Well, no… I did go to Massachusetts to go check on him and Lizzy."

"Ok…?" Bobby returns, taking a sip of the beer Sam left on the table for him. Sam just looks at him with a blank stare. "Dean hasn't called me freaking out and Lizzy hasn't given me the panicked 911 yet so I'm assuming you didn't actually talk to them."

"Nope. Instead I played the part of creepy guy watching them from across the street," Sam explains. "I didn't let them know I was there."

"What!?" Bobby says with odd alarm. "Why the hell not? You and yer brother are thick as thieves. This ain't like you to avoid the grand reunion…"

"You're right, it's not," he cuts in, his brow wrinkling with what looks like distress. "But haven't all my decisions in life been wrong so far?"

The elder hunter sits for a quiet moment to think. "Can't argue there," Bobby agrees with him.

"So when I saw Dean out working on the car… I just didn't have it in me to ruin his life twice, even if I wanted to."

A narrow-eyed, suspicious expression washes over Bobby. "Speak plain."

Sam huffs a small laugh as he prepares to explain himself… or at least give the explanation he came up with on the way here.

"Look, Dean's whole life has revolved around me. I know this. And because of that his life has sucked ass. I mean, sure, technically it's mom's fault for making that deal with Yellow-Eyes and dad's fault for hauling us everywhere and making us so dependent on each other it's royally fucked us but in the end… it was Dean who suffered the most. He's spent thirty years being my protector and not having an identity of his own. That's not supposed to be his lot in life. He's supposed to be the good dude next door that helps fix your car on weekends and has a wife and kids of his own… he's not supposed to be the guy who's already had a son of his own starting at the age for four. The mess that I come with, the hunting and the ties to angels, demons, monsters… I don't have it in me to walk right back into his life with all that baggage and kill his second chance."

Damn is he good when he tries, Sam thinks of himself.

A moment of silence lingers on as Bobby thinks things through. This explanation is very much like Sam. As much as Dean would do anything to keep Sam safe and happy he knows Sam would do the same in turn, even if that means never talking to his older brother for the rest of his life, or for as long as he can hold out.

"Gonna be a little tough, don't you think?"

"What is?" Sam questions.

"Staying away from the one blood relative you got left for the rest of your life," he points out. "And Lizzy too for that matter. She was as close as you had to a real sister towards the end there. You think you can ditch out of their lives totally, for good?"

"Yeah, or for as long as I can," Sam answers, knowing it won't be nearly as hard as Bobby says it'll be. They have nothing to offer him. Dean isn't much of a hunter as of now and Lizzy… well she has nothing he needs. That should bother him, but for some reason it doesn't. He better choose his words carefully. "If they can have a normal, supernatural free life, one where they're truly happy… hell yeah I can stay away. I'd do anything for them, you know that."

Bobby nods. "So what do you say you get out too then? Perfect opportunity."

"No way," Sam laughs away the thought.

"Wait a tick, weren't you always the one all gung-ho to get out?" Bobby challenges.

"Once upon a time, yeah."

"Well get back on board with the idea," Bobby nearly yells at Sam. "You've paid more than your dues, kid. This is your chance. Heaven and Hell are dealing with their own piles of shit and for once you ain't tied up in it. Get out just like them. Have a life, get a girl, get a real job. Live. Be a stuffy, too-smart lawyer who fucks over the big wigs."

"I can't," Sam shakes his head. "I wouldn't even know how to do that anymore. Nah, I accepted hunting as my life a long time ago. Now I'm just kinda ready to embrace it. Save some asses and more importantly kill some evil ones. I'm ok with it."

"You sure?" None of this is settling well with Sam.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he answers after a long pull from his bottle of beer. "Just, you know, don't tell Dean. Or Lizzy. Leave them alone."

"Don't have to ask me twice," Bobby tells him. "I want them out and having a real life as much as the next guy."

"Good," Sam smiles something odd.

"Yeah, good," Bobby echoes and takes down a good amount of beer himself.

Nothing settling right in his brain, Bobby does agree with Sam on one thing. Dean and Lizzy deserve a good, quiet life after all they've seen and done and Sam getting back into their lives will ruin that instantly if he sticks with hunting. For their sake he decides he'll keep quiet on the resurrection. Doesn't mean he'll like lying to those kids, but he'll do anything to keep them out. The only things he wants to talk to Dean about is cars and his new job when he gets one and the only stuff he wants to hear from Lizzy is that the two of them are happy and that someday his grandkids will be on the way.

But he'll only hear that if Sam stays away.

"So… what brings you topside?" Bobby changes the subject to an even more daunting one with a light and airy tone that doesn't exactly fit.

"Ah, and therein lies the reason for my visit," Sam smiles, a real one that Bobby believes for the first time since he's arrived.

" _That's_  why you're here?" he questions back with offence.

"That and to see you beautiful mug again, Bobby," Sam laughs a bit.

"Yeah yeah," Bobby returns. "What do you know already?"

* * *

 


	15. September 1st

* * *

"So this is an in and out job, right?" Dean questions her for the third time during their short drive.

"Yes," she says in an exasperated tone. "We go in, we get everything done, and we haul ass home. Trust me, I don't want to deal with this anymore than you do."

"Doubt it," he mumbles as he drives on, speeding quickly down the streets. Fuck, he really didn't want to do this.

"Hey, lose the shitty attitude, huh?" Lizzy complains as they get closer to their destination. "I honestly thought you'd be excited for this."

"Seriously?" Dean questions with surprised doubt.

"Yeah. This is right up your ally," she nearly laughs with his overreaction to everything. "I figured you'd be happy to get out and help me this time around. Been handling things on my own for months now…"

"And I never want you being stuck with having to do the dirty work on your own, you know that," Dean rebuts immediately. "But that doesn't just magically make me want to come along. Still sucks."

"I know," Lizzy nods. "But we have to do what we have to do. No one is gonna just get this shit done for us."

"Yeah, yeah," he brushes off with utter annoyance.

Dean sees the place coming up on the right. He turns sharply into the lot and takes an open spot, throwing Baby into park. He turns the keys and cuts the engine before sighing.

"Come on, let's go," Lizzy tells him as she gets out of the Impala. Dean follows suit and side by side they walk together into their local grocery store. "In and out job," she reminds.

"We shoulda stayed home so I could do an in and out job on you," Dean says with a more grumpy bite than he meant to have.

"And we could starve to death while we were at it."

"Works for me," he returns with, his attitude certainly not improving as the glass sliding doors open up for them.

* * *

Dean stares down at the bin of odd looking red fruit with an utterly baffled face. Orange he knows. He's even familiar with pineapple, watermelon, and hey, who doesn't love a good Georgia peach now and then. But this is ridiculous. He reads the sign for the hard skinned fruit as he picks one up in his hand.

"Pomegranate, huh?" he says aloud before turning to face Lizzy as she bags up some onions. "So these are the things getting into all the juices and shit lately?"

"What can I say?" Lizzy shrugs with a smile. "It's a fad fruit."

"Did you know how weird these friggin' things looked?"

Lizzy looks over with an unsurprised look. "Yeah, I was vaguely aware."

"I haven't even heard of half of this crap," Dean says to her, dropping the pomegranate back into the bin without ceremony and reading over the other signs in front of him. "Ugly fruit.  _Really_?" he reads as he picks one up, holding it out for her to see. "Guess they went literal when naming this one."

"Sure did," Lizzy absently answers, barely listening as she makes her way quickly through the produce. This is less fun than she'd hoped for. She wrongly assumed that if he came to help her shop for food that he'd add a little fun or at the very least it would take less time to get the task done. However, she seems to have forgotten that he's more of a curious child sometimes than a helpful adult.

"Star fruit?" he says with surprise as he moves on. "Bullshit. That doesn't even look like a star. It's like a jacked up mini football."

"Well, like  _that_  it doesn't look like a star," Lizzy says as she ties closed the bag of onions and drops it in the cart before walking to him. She picks one of the star fruit up and makes him look at it from the end. "But if you cut it in half the cross section looks like a star. See?"

As she looks at him with a helpful smile, waiting for him to see it, Dean gives her an annoyed look. "Cross section?"

"Shut up," she complains instantly with his nit picking her vocabulary. She puts the fruit down. "Go make yourself useful and grab me some grapes."

"Why grapes?"

"Because I like them," she tells him.

"You do?" he says with a little shock. "Since when?"

"Since forever," she laughs, knowing she's eaten them in front of him many a time. "You just never noticed because I was eating healthy food and you didn't ever want to steal some." She laughs a little more. "If they were mini cheeseburgers you would've noticed."

Dean nods with a look of acceptance of the point she makes and heads for the grapes. "You want the white kind or the red?"

"Red," she calls back.

"Huh," he thinks aloud while grabbing a bag and remaining curious. "Kinda more like purple, aren't they?"

"Yeah, sure," Lizzy brushes off as he walks to drop them into the cart. He's already getting on her nerves and they just got there.

"You know you're just eating these things before you should," he tells her, pointing at the bag of grapes now in the cart. "You wait a few years and they'll not only taste good but they'll get you fucked up too. You're too impatient."

"You're gonna annoy the absolute shit outta me during this trip aren't you?" Lizzy asks, her face showing her irritation.

Dean knows that look. She's irritated but not mad… and he can rebound from that in a heartbeat. He displays his patented shit eating grin and steps in front of her, bringing his arms around her shoulders. "I was just trying to get you to see that bringing me on an errand like this is a mistake so you'll never make me come with you again."

"You're smarter than you look, I'll give you that," Lizzy nods and kisses him when he leans down for a quick one.

"Oh I'm the whole friggin' package, baby," he smirks.

"Well then, whole package, let's get the lead out. I wanna get home and sit on the couch with a beer… you know, enjoy my Saturday  _before_  I have to work all night."

"Work, eh," Dean makes a disgusted face and backs away. She starts down the aisle and he follows.

"Dude, eventually you're gonna have to get a job, you free loader. I can't afford you. You're expensive."

"I've already put in enough hours in my life. Consider this early retirement," he says to her, eyes wide when they get to the meat section. "Now that is what I'm talking about." He points ahead to the beef display and is off.

"Great," Lizzy grumbles to herself as she watches him look through the options. "This was a terrible idea."

* * *

"Holy shit!" Dean says with childlike-happiness as he strides quickly ahead of Lizzy while she pushes the shopping cart. He takes a box off the snack food aisle shelf and holds it out for her to see. "They still make these!?"

"Looks like it," Lizzy says, her expression showing how exhausted she is by him. He's been a mad man through this trip, adding every and anything he can to their quite full cart. One would swear he's never been grocery shopping to stock a kitchen before… oh, right. He hasn't.

"These were like the snack Holy Grail when I was a kid," Dean tells her, looking over the box of Gushers fruit snacks. "Dad never let us get any because it was too expensive. Ha, I once traded my whole lunch for one pack of these." Dean smiles as he reminisces a bit. "That kid was a total dumbass. My lunch was a bag of Funions and a can of Mr. Pibb. Ha. Moron."

Lizzy smiles a bit as he looks over the box. Once more she's reminded of how different their upbringings were. To her the junk food item is nothing special. She's had a ton of those as a child, along with every other kid-aimed snack on the market. To Dean it's something else completely. It's his lost childhood, it's proof of the shit life he's had to lead until now, and it's a chance to feel like he can have what he wants for once.

"Relax before you start singing Streisand," Lizzy says with a smile.

"Memories," he starts in his completely tone-deaf voice.

"Stop now!" she nearly shouts with a grin on her lips. "Just put the box in cart already."

"Yes," Dean whispers as he does just as she tells him to. "You know this whole grocery shopping thing ain't half bad. I might come with you every time."

"You come with me every time and we'll be so broke that we'll be living outta your car all over again!" Lizzy laughs. "I wasn't joking when I said you were expensive."

"Eh, I'm worth it," Dean confidently smirks as he keeps looking through the aisle. His eyes fall on the shelf with endless flavors of Oreos and he stops in place. Picking up a package of the original kind he sighs. "Hey, ah… did you know that these things are one of the only kinds of junk food Sam has ever liked, even as a kid?"

Peering at him with a soft expression she pushes the cart right up next to him. She can see the moment pulling him in, making him go back to a more simple time when he and Sam were kids and they were innocent, not yet fully jaded, and could find happiness in something so small as a cookie.

Lizzy brings her arms around his waist from behind, not caring what the middle-aged lady in the other end of the aisle might think of the odd display in the middle of a grocery store. Fuck that. They've looked weirder before.

"Why Oreos?" she asks him, never having thought of Sam as a cookie guy, or a chocolate guy for that matter.

"No freakin' clue," Dean answers, looking at the package in his hands still. "He just loves them. By the time he was in middle school the kid could house a half a package in a single sitting. He loved when we'd actually buy these, which was pretty rare." He laughs quietly. "And if we did I'd never touch 'em. Didn't have the heart to take any from him. That and I'd probably lose a hand in the process."

Lizzy smiles wide as she hugs him tighter. "Pop them in the cart then."

Dean turns around and looks down, her smile warm and comforting.

"We'll eat them in tribute," she tells him. "And I don't mind taking some Oreos home. They're like, the best stoner food ever so… done deal for me."

"Take it easy, Snoop," he jests with a grin and puts yet more junk food into the cart. Making fun of her stoner tendencies is way easier than getting lost in the sorrow of his damned brother.

* * *

"Well, mission accomplished, you massive glutton," Lizzy comments as she walks out of the grocery store while looking over the very long receipt. Dean pushes the overflowing shopping cart that's jammed with packed plastic bags next to her. "You're definitely  _never_  coming with me grocery shopping ever again!"

"Fuck that," Dean denies her declaration. "This was awesome. That bakery had every pie known to man and I got all the shit I was never allowed to have with Dad around. You come here without me next time and there will be hell to pay, L.  _Hell_  to pay."

"Is that so?" Lizzy mocks as all she hears is an empty threat.

"Absolutely," he tells her with certainty while unlocking the Impala trunk. The oddity of him filling it with food instead of weapons isn't lost at all on him. It feels strange but at the very same time quite nice. "And we're  _so_  having burgers for dinner."

"Are you seriously telling me what I'm going to cook for dinner now?" Lizzy asks with slight anger.

"No," Dean innocently answers as he picks up some bags and starts loading up the trunk. "I'm telling you what  _I'm_  making for dinner."

"Don't fucking play with me like that, Dean," Lizzy warns while helping him pack the car.

"What? I'm not messing with you," he tells her, honest in his voice as he tells the truth. "I  _can_  cook you know."

"Yeah, you can cook… if you're having the blue box blues," Lizzy jokes, not thinking he can make anything past boxed meals that come with instructions. She never seen more than that from him besides the meal he made while she practically held his hand so it's all she has to go by.

"You forget that most of my life I've held several different jobs. Chef was definitely one of them, just like laundry dude, chauffeur, guardian, weapons maintenance… you get the picture."

"Huh…" Lizzy wonders aloud as she drops in the last of the bags. "So how come I've never seen this gourmet prowess in action? Why don't you cook for me?"

"Did it my whole life, like I said," Dean shrugs as he slams the trunk shut. "Got burned out for a while there."

"And now you're willing to go back?" she hopes aloud.

"Eh, sure," he tells her. "Should probably pull my weight sooner or later, right?"

Pausing and dropping her arms to her sides, she looks up at him with a loving expression.

"What?" Dean asks annoyed, knowing the face means something akin to a chick flick moment.

"Just good to hear you say that," she answers. "And if I'm gonna start a second job soon I might need the help at home. I'll be busy."

"Second job?" Dean all but whines with the news.

"Yes, Hot Shot. We need cash to live these days and Mark at the self-defense center said I could get back on track with my certification," she explains while leaning against the back end of the Impala. "Can't pull off credit card fraud when we're always in one place. It's too easy to get caught. So, second job it is for me."

"But you have all that money your parents left you," Dean reminds her. When they passed away she inherited all they had in bank accounts, investments, and property being their only kid.

"Did."

"Huh?"

"I  _did_  have all that money my parents left me," she says quietly, knowing the issue at hand she's about to present to him that she has been avoiding admitting is a big one. He has enough on his plate as is. "But it's all gone."

"Every cent!?" he asks with alarm. All this time he assumed they'd be ok and use her inheritance for a bit. He had no idea it was no more.

"Well, almost." Her sheepish look shows how sad and worried she is about the situation.

"How is that even possible?" Dean asks with shock, hands on his hips. Her mom didn't make shit because she taught in a public school but her dad was a successful business man. They were living on Easy Street or so he'd thought.

"I used it up hunting," she shrugs like it's no big deal. "Lou and I didn't do the credit fraud thing too much. Cars and safe houses and storage are expensive. So are supplies. We didn't always rock at hustling people out of their cash at first either."

"So you paid for everything outright!?" Dean's eye bug wide when she nods in confirmation.

"It was our only option for about two years. We got better over time…."

"I thought your uncle invested everything and it was going well." She had told him that once when they met. She said her uncle handled her money and made her more over time.

"Well enough until the economy went down the shitter," she explains quickly. "Between some major investments failing and the handful of rare occult items I've had to purchase to do my job here and there I've gone all but bust. I have about twenty thousand stashed away…"

"That can hold us over for a bit," he rationalizes with a hopeful tone.

"No way," Lizzy immediately denies.

"Why not?" Dean questions her immediate refusal.

"That stash is not to be touched unless an emergency comes up," she explains. "My dad was smart with money and I did actually pick up a few things here and there from him… even if overall I'm pretty clueless with money. In our lives I always figured twenty G's would be perfect in a bind for three hunters with nothing other than a classic car to our names"

"And Baby is not for sale," Dean points accusingly at her all the while knowing she would never ask him to sell his sexy girlfriend on the side.

"I know, dear. Relax," she huffs with a smile. "Even if we're not hunting anymore I like having that money there for whatever might come our way. Other than that I don't have much saved away… except, you know…"

She looks away and lets her statement trail off, prompting Dean to pry immediately. She doesn't do that unless she's keeping something from him.

"Except what?" he asks with impatience.

"I may have set aside another fifty grand that I won't go near."

"You're sitting on fifty large but you're saying we're broke!?" He couldn't have heard that right, could he have?

"We  _are_  broke," she reiterates. "Because, like I said, I'm never going near that… unless we have kids."

"What!?"

"College is expensive. I want my kids to have everything they deserve, like a chance at a real education if that's what they want. If we have them, that is." They haven't spoken about their future much yet, especially not expanding upon whatever it is they call a family. Sam's death is still too fresh to look toward more positive and bright things quite yet. It's damn near impossible at the moment. And they were in no place whatsoever to raise kids right now. "That money would be at least a good start for them… I hope."

Speechless. Dean's completely speechless with what she tells him. He didn't see this coming.

"Look, I know you're probably not ready to get out into the real world for good yet and I'm not saying you have to search for a job tomorrow. You've been through enough and if you need time I'm ok with that. But, in the meantime, we need cash to keep paying rent and utilities and food and, since we're still doing our fair share of drinking, booze."

At the word booze Dean snaps his fingers when he remembers another errand for the day he planned to get done. "We're running low. How much you got left on you?"

With a sigh Lizzy pulls out the folded wad of money she had left from this week's tips at the bar. Before she could count he grabs the whole thing out of her hand. She rolls her eyes.

"Calm down. It's a good investment," he smirks. "Memory loss, sleep induction, nerve relaxer, sex kick-starter… it's well worth the money."

He jogs off to the liquor store next to the grocery store in the small plaza and she worries. After a few months Lizzy had hoped his drinking would slow down. She was hoping hers would too but both of their days have been like roller coaster rides; good one second, terrible the next, barely manageable for a while, then back to depressing for a bit. After the night he hunted alone and she walked out on him the drinking has curbed a little but not nearly enough if one were to ask her. As he takes what's left of their money for the week and blows it all on hard liquor and beer she knows for sure now that she needs to get that second job.

Alcoholism is expensive.

* * *

"I can't believe you got that old ass grill out back going," Lizzy laughs as Dean walks into the room with two plates in hand. "That's been there since before I started renting this place years ago."

"Eh, a little elbow grease and some knowhow can go a long way," he brushes off, placing her plate in front of her on the coffee table. As Dean sits next to her on the couch, settling in with his own plate of food, he watches as she sits up taller when she sees everything he made for the first time. She already looks impressed and his stomach jumps happily with the reaction. He carefully studies her expression with what he thinks is hidden excitement.

"Whoa," she awes at the look of her meal. Lizzy is shocked to say the least. The food is not only presentable but it looks and smells amazing. The cheeseburger, sitting alongside some thick, wedge cut homemade fries, looks perfectly grilled with all the usual accoutrement. Lettuce, tomato, bacon, cheddar cheese…. "Baby, this looks amazing!"

"Don't say that until you try it," he says while egging her on to give it a whirl, his anticipation growing.

Lizzy smiles to him before taking up her sandwich. She does the usual quick turn of her burger to find that perfect first bite (ok, so maybe that's a learned behavior from a couple years of being on the road with Dean) and dives in. Eyes wide, Dean waits to see what she has to say.

"Holy fucking fuck," Lizzy praises through her bite before chewing a little more. "Are you fucking kidding me with this!?"

"Good, right?" Dean asks for confirmation that he did well, his green eyes still wide and hopeful.

"So fucking good," she continues to chew. "Where the hell did you learn how to pull this off?"

"L," he starts in a serious tone. "I've eaten hundreds of these things…"

"Try millions," she corrects while staring at her burger before moving in quickly for another bite.

"Ok, drama queen… millions," he corrects for her with some bite in his tone. "Just saying that if I couldn't make a killer burger after all that then I'd consider myself a failure." He takes up his sandwich and dives into his own now that he's more than satisfied with her reaction.

"Research well done, my friend," she tells him with a new mouthful before holding up her hand for a high five. She gets one of course. "And you made fries?"

"Damn straight."

"We don't have a fryer."

"Baked 'em," he says, a full mouth of his own now.

"Oven fries, eh? You know some tricks," she amazes. "Hm, you forgot to get the ketchup." She goes to stand and he grabs her wrist closest to him to stop her.

"Sit down," he tells her in a demanding tone. "Those are so good you don't need anything else. Give 'em a chance."

Lizzy sighs and sits back down heavily. "I want my ketchup." She loves ketchup. Call it a left over love from her childhood along with ballpark dogs and grilled cheese.

"Just try one bite," Dean says, losing patience with her refusal to appreciate his cooking the right way.

"Fine…" she mutters to herself while picking up a fry before joking under her breath, "Fucking fry Nazi." She grimaces at him as he already knows he's breaking one of her cardinal rules of fries. Curiosity still wins as she takes a healthy bite of one of the fries on her plate. She chomps down on it a few times before looking over at him with a serious expression.

"You don't have to say it," he tells her as he turns his attention back to his own dinner. "I know. I'm awesome."

"And I'm never cooking again!" she cheers as she lets the shockingly excellent meal overwhelm her.

"What!?" Dean's face drops as he looks over to her.

"This is so good. It's fucking settled," she picks up her burger and smiles at it. "You hold down the fort and I go out and bring home the bacon." She then takes another huge bite and moans her enjoyment.

"Did you just declare me the housewife?" Dean asks with alarm. No fucking way is that happening.

"Did you just cook this awesome meal?" she questions with food still in her mouth.

"Yes."

"And do you stay home while I go out and earn an honest living?"

"Well, kind of…"

"Then ta-da, bitch!" Lizzy cheers. "It's settled. I wear the pants, you wear the apron."

And that's when a fry hit hits her in the cheek.

"Rude!" she shouts with a bright smile, knowing she's pissing him off while joking.

"Take it back." His voice is stern but smirk in place just enough so she knows it isn't serious.

"Never!" she yells to him after swallowing her mouthful.

"Take it back now!" he yells to her as he moves over towards her, his arms around her middle and tackling her over.

"Fuck you!" she laughs out at he starts in on tickling her. "Get off me, wifey!"

"You're fucking dead!" Dean declares as he launches a full blown attack, pushing her over on the couch and pinning her down while continuing.

"Stop!" she laughs manically as he attacks her.

"Never."

"Oh my God!" she continues to laugh out. "Stop! Dean! I'm gonna pee!"

"Bonus for me then," he jokes at her expense.

"The food's getting cold!" Lizzy finally shouts in her last ditch effort to get him to lay off.

"Shit," Dean complains as he backs away. He put in a lot of work and she makes a good point.

"Thank God," Lizzy huffs as she pushes him off of her and sits back up.

"When this is done though, I'm getting you back," he fairly warns while picking up his burger again. "I get no respect around here."

Lizzy smiles wide with his complaint and as he takes another bite she leans into him and kisses him on the cheek.

"Thanks for dinner," she says sincerely. "It's really good and I appreciate that you're helping out."

He hadn't been prepared for the honesty after the joking around and with a huge wad of burger in his mouth he blinks once before saying, "Yeah. No problem."

* * *

 


	16. September 12th-13th

* * *

"What a lovely surprise," Lizzy beams out when she looks at her newest customer taking a seat at the bar on an average Wednesday night.

"I am quite lovely, aren't I?" Dean jests, settling in as he views her automatically reaching into the deep cooler to get him the El Sol he was sure to ask for.

"Oh honey, you're the loveliest broad of them all," she jokes right back as she makes her way to him, popping the beer bottle top. She places the beer on a Sam Adams coaster and then leans onto the surface with her elbows. She smiles at him, happy he's there.

"Watch it," he points at her while taking up the drink. "I'm a fucking lady."

"You are, and now I wish I had gotten that on tape. Could be great for blackmailing you into whatever I want later," she keeps her bright smile in place. "You get bored at home?"

"Ah," he sighs with his first large pull. "Yep. Too quiet."

"I understand," she sympathizes, know how the silent apartment can be crushing. "It gets that way sometimes, doesn't it?"

"Sure does."

"Well, I think I have a solution for that."

"A solution?" Dean questions her as she stands up tall.

With a deep inhale, Lizzy makes sure to remain grinning and positive as she answers him. "If you have a job you won't have time to be bored at home."

Eye roll clear and huge, Dean slumps a little lower into his chair.

"Just listen before you trash this, ok?" Lizzy requests, her smile gone and her hands impatiently on her hips.

"Proceed," Dean lets her go with a wave in the air of his hand as he stubbornly listens.

"I'm talking about cars here," she tells him and Dean's face immediately softens. "I ran into the guy that now runs the garage Lou's dad owned, the guy who bought it from Lou and her brother."

"Ran into?"

"Yeah, I ran into him… when I went in for an oil change," Lizzy admits that she very much meant to go see the guy.

A look of disappointment washes over Dean. "So instead of have me do some simple car maintenance you went to this guy with an agenda in your back pocket."

"Yes."

"Awesome," Dean complains and takes down a good amount of beer. He doesn't like where this is going nor does he like Lizzy's tactics.

"You know, I  _am_  awesome because I got you a job if you want it," Lizzy tells him. "Ellis is a good guy. He knows about certain things…"

"What things?" Dean interrupts.

"Our kind of things."

"He knows what's really out there?" Dean asks instantly.

"Lou told him what we saw the night Laraje killed her parents and he believed her."

"Why would he believe her?"

"He's known Lou her whole life. He's a close family friend and he used to work with Lou's dad at the shop. Shit, Lou called him Uncle El. He never questioned her, not even when we headed out on the road for good." Lizzy sighs and drops her hand onto Dean's forearm that resting on the bar top. "He's a great guy. He even offered to put your paycheck in my name…"

"Uh, why would he need to do that?" Dean asks with confusion.

"I don't think your social security number is gonna work, Dean. You're dead."

"Yeah, ha," Dean says with a small laugh, one filled with a little bit of sadness. "I keep forgetting about that."

"He said he'd claim me as the employee. Your paycheck will be in my name but big deal, right? We'll just put everything into one account and get two cards to access everything."

"You've put thought into this." Dean's sure she has When Lizzy presents something that she really wants to make happen she is meticulous with everything. She'll have all the answers, have a plausible plan in place, and she makes it very hard to argue.

"Of course I have," Lizzy tells him and stands up tall again. "We need money and I don't want to have to work three jobs eventually."

"Fair enough," Dean nods while staring down at his bottle.

"And you need to start getting out more. It'll be really good for you to get out of the house and have a distraction from your own brain."

This time he just nods again. It's true but he's not ready. He's scared. Becoming a part of the real world, the one everyone else lives in every day, sounds terrifying. He's still a bit of a mess with the loss of Sam, having okay days and really bad ones where he can't get out of bed, and he doesn't know how to act in this new world of his. He's never been here before. He's fully aware that he could probably fake it until he makes it but that sounds so exhausting.

After a long pause, Dean picking at his beer label instead of even look at her, Lizzy knows what he's not telling her already.

"I'm not saying you have to start tomorrow," Lizzy explains further. "But I want what's best for you. I want you to get into the real world a bit and find something you wouldn't mind doing. I know how much you love to work with cars. This way, you can get paid to fuck around with other people's babies."

"But I don't know much about newer cars…"

"But you could very easily learn," Lizzy stops his excuses. "You're a smart dude and Ellis said if you know a car, no matter what year, you know enough. Plus, he was very excited when I told them about how you specialize in classic models, something his garage and all northeastern garages lack, and that you happen to have a connection with a guy in a scrap yard who could get you deals." She grins mischievously.

"You mentioned Bobby!?" he asks with worry and dislike. "L, leave the old man alone. He hasn't even sold a single part in years."

"But if you called and he had what you were asking for, you telling me that he wouldn't send it for you?"

To this Dean has no response.

"Bobby would do anything for us, to help us have a normal life. He'd do it in a second," she grins. "Plus, I may have already warned him I mentioned his name…"

"L!"

"Relax! He's more than cool with it. I called and told him right after and he said he had our backs… whatever we needed," she defends. "Look, all in all it's the best offer you're gonna get. A real job with a real paycheck, no questions about your past asked and you get to work with your hands on cars. This  _is_  what you're best at."

"Second best," he smirks at her with a sip of beer.

"Right, you're the best hunter there ever was," she rolls her eyes, assuming she knows what he's referring to.

"Oh, I wasn't talking about hunting, sweetheart," Dean says with confidence. "But I don't think I need to tell you what my hands are best at… do I?"

And there it is. As the shiver of want suddenly runs down her spine she realizes he's at least going to think about taking the job. She just wanted him to think about it.

"You certainly don't have to tell me," Lizzy grins a bit as she looks at him and winks. "So you'll think it over?"

"Yeah, I'll think it over," Dean says with an uncertain tone. "When does he need to know?"

"You mean when does he want you to start?" Lizzy's smile nearly breaks her cheeks. "He told me to have you stop by sometime when you're ready to talk to him and just meet. You can check out the garage and Ellis and make a decision. You can wait for a bit too if you need it. He's a pretty understanding dude. I told him about Sam… well, kind of. So he knows where our heads are. When you're ready, he's ready for you."

"Liz!" they both hear a roughed up, older voice coming from the bar entrance. When Lizzy looks up she smiles wide.

"Joe!" she yells right back as she reaches for a rocks glass and the bottle of Jameson automatically.

"Oh honey, it's been a shitty day," he tells her, taking up his usual seat and taking off his suit jacket. "You better double it up. And keep it neat."

"Uh-oh Joey-boy, this doesn't sound good," Lizzy says to him while pouring his serious drink. "What's going on?"

Dean eyes the guy that sat down with just one barstool between them. He's middle-aged, probably around forty, and wherever he works it doesn't suck there. The suit he's wearing is way better than the ones he always wore when faking people into believing he's a government official. And as he listens to their conversations he realizes this Joe and his wife have quite the report.

"The ex isn't sending the kids for the weekend anymore," he answers. "She's pulling some bullshit and claiming they don't want to come but it's all a lie. She just doesn't want to make the drive."

"Didn't you say she did this to you last month?" Lizzy asks, keeping her favorite customer's life chronicled in her brain. If he's going to over tip just so she'll listen to him then she can at least remember what he tells her.

"Yep," he says as she puts the drink down in front of him. He immediately takes a hefty sip. "Haven't had the kids in two and a half months."

"Doesn't that mean she's breaking the divorce agreement with you?" Lizzy keeps prying, ignoring Dean completely as she's grown concerned for Joe. She lives with Dean and sees him more often anyways. Joe's looking pretty beat down.

"Sure does," he tells her, his sadness written across his face. "She's a real pain in my ass. And I miss those damn kids." He sighs. "Jake called me a few days ago, asked when he was coming to visit. I told him I didn't know and that his mom and I were working on it. Jakey's my boy, my oldest. He'll always be on my side. I'm hoping he can get through to her." He then takes another sip before looking up at Lizzy, contemplating. "You got a guy, don't you?"

She smiles, forcing herself not to look over a couple stools at the man Joe's asking about.

"Sure do."

"And by the look of that smile I can tell you're in deep," Joe huffs when her face lights up with the thought of her man.

"I might be," she playfully tells him.

"Well, make sure he isn't gonna fuck you over in the future before you marry the dude, or worse, have kids," he warns her. "You never know what people will be like until it's too late."

"I'd call it too late," Lizzy jokes as she holds up her left hand to show him her wedding ring set. Joe's eyebrows fly nearly to his hairline. "Joe, seriously? I've been wearing these every day since I got back. You never noticed?"

"Maybe I didn't want to," he winks at her.

"You're a dirty old man, Joey," she flirts slightly with a bright smile.

"And what would you do without me," he jests with another sip. "So who's the lucky guy?"

"His name's Dean," Lizzy starts to tell him, grabbing the Jameson bottle as she watches him down his drink in one giant gulp. She glances sideways at her husband and grins at him, Dean smirking with a nod in return. "He's a good guy. I know he'll never fuck me over so no worries."

"I hope you're right, Liz," Joe says, a hand washing down his face with stress. "You're a good girl. You deserve a good guy."

"He's one of the best," she grins, Dean doing the same just to the side of them while she refills Joe's glass. "You want to meet him?"

"Meet him?" Joe looks at her funny with the offer and before he knows it the guy sitting next to him a stool away has his hand extended in his direction.

"Hi," Dean politely greets, hand waiting to be taken. "I'm Dean, Lizzy's husband."

"This guy?" Joe asks with fake dislike. Lizzy nods with a bright smile. Joe shakes Dean's hand and cordially returns with a, "Nice to meet you, Dean."

"You too Joe," Dean tells him. "It's good to put a face with the name of the guy who pays our rent."

Joe just winces and shakes his head.

"And relax, I have no plans to fuck over Lizzy," Dean says while picking up his beer again. "Fuck her… that's a different story, but fuck her  _over_ , never."

He gets a laugh out the guy for that one. "Well, you're a lucky man Dean. They don't come much better than Lizzy. She's like my enabler and my psychologist all in one. And easy on the eyes too… as you clearly already know."

"You sure don't have to tell me, Joe," Dean says mostly to himself but keeps eye contact with Lizzy as he does. "She ain't too shabby."

"My ex-wife could learn a thing or two from you," Joe points to her.

"Or maybe I learned from her… since what I'm best at is taking all your money."

"Ha-ha smartass," Joe calls her out and she laughs. He then turns to Dean. "So Dean, what do you do?"

Finding the question a little funny after the conversation he and Lizzy just had, Dean easily answers, "Mechanic, apparently."

* * *

Sitting alone in the apartment once more while Lizzy is out working on her self-defense certification, Dean finds himself bored as hell. This has happened a few times now that she's found a second job of sorts. More often than not he's alone.

And when he's alone he thinks. Thinks about Sam, about hell and what he went through, about how much worse it is for Sam… about how terrible eternity is.

Many times he cures his painful mind with research. He wants Sam out and so he's looked for an answer. Dean is not the stupid man he portrays himself to be however and he is well aware that finding a way to save Sam is going to be a slim to none chance, if a way does in fact exist of course. He can't just use the Horsemen's rings again because he'd instantly release Lucifer and Michael, thus making the Apocalypse happen for sure. That would make Sam's sacrifice worthless and after all Sam gave Dean just couldn't do that… as much as he so desperately wants to.

And now he's been at a dead end for a few days straight. The internet isn't giving him anything new that he hasn't read and he's out of books from their town's library. He's contemplated calling Bobby a few times in the hopes that he'll have something he could send out or maybe a lead but then Bobby would know he's been searching for a way to save his brother and that would NOT go over well. Bobby already gave the lecture before they parted ways in that cemetery in Kansas.

So now he sits, mind rambling to those frightening places where he creates scenarios in his head of what is happening to Sam right now. Maybe it's the rack right now… maybe it's emotional stuff where he sees things impossible… maybe it something even his own torture master brain couldn't even dream up. Lucifer is the creator of all hell misery after all. He must know a whole lot that Dean's yet to see.

His head hurts. His heart hurts. His soul hurts. He's exhausted and the pain never seems to lessen.

Dean can't cry anymore. He just can't. Physically he can't make it happen. He used to love when Lizzy would head out for work. It gave him hours of time that he could just let it out without her around. He's put her through enough and he's over breaking down in front of her. But now his body can't seem to break down any further so here he sits, whiskey in hand, TV on but unwatched, and mind rambling.

With a sigh, Dean looks around the living room. His eyes fall to the corner of the room where one of Lizzy's most coveted possessions sits in its stand. He's been curious, he has to admit. It's spent the past few months just sitting there, looking at him and silently daring him to pick it up and give it a try.

Oh what the hell, right?

Dean finishes off his glass if whiskey and stands up. He walks across the room and stands in front of Lou's guitar. As a kid Dean had always wanted to learn how to play. Granted, back then he wanted to learn on a badass Les Paul like Jimmy Page but whatever. As he observes Lou's instrument, the wood still shiny and Tom Petty sticker still in place, he wonders what she'd think of him using it. Lou didn't really like Dean all that much when she died. He'd all but dropped Lizzy for good and without a word so that on top of Lou's skepticism over him and the rumors surrounding his persona left her less than impressed with him. She hated that Lizzy felt so strongly for him and Dean never had the chance to explain or redeem himself before she was gone.

She'd hate him for using her guitar, her one important item she kept with her through her hunting career. It was her tie to her old life, her tie to her true love in life… music. Would it be wrong to even touch the thing? Would she haunt his ass for even thinking it?

Nah. Lou wouldn't hate him if she was still alive. He would have proven himself by now, even Lizzy thinks so. He loves her more than he loves himself and, even if Lou didn't like him, Dean really liked her. She was strong and kind, determined and damn good at her job, and she was everything to the two most important people in his life. How could he not like the girl who was fiercely loyal and blood sister of his wife and the love of his brother's life (or so he suspects… Sam's never admitted it aloud but who knows Sammy better than him… oh right, Lou might have).

After much contemplation, Dean goes for it. He picks up the guitar and waits, holding still and holding his breath.

The room temperature didn't drop and the lights didn't flicker. He knew they wouldn't but still…

Dropping heavily back down onto the middle cushion of the couch, he pours himself some more whiskey. He takes a sip, sits back, and holds the acoustic in the way he's seen several a rock star do in the past. It's then that he realizes he really has no fucking clue what he's doing.

"How the fuck do you play these things?" Dean mutters to himself, his thumb dragging across the strings once and making a mix of notes that didn't necessarily sound good together. He's going to need some help.

Dean takes out Lizzy's laptop and places it in front of him on the coffee table. He does a basic search; how to play guitar. Instantly he gets roughly 195,000,000 hits. Jesus. No good. But he did live with a computer and research wiz for practically his whole life so a short two minutes later he was watching tutorials on YouTube and actually following along.

* * *

As she unlocks the front door around quarter past two in the afternoon, she can hear it. It's terrible. Whatever the fuck song he's listening to isn't a good one. The guitar work is sloppy at best…

And then she hears a voice. It's a man's voice, certainly not Dean's, and she pauses to listen to it. She can't make out what he's saying though. It's too quiet from the downstairs foyer.

What the fuck is he up to?

Lizzy plays it smart when her curiosity gets the better of her. She stays quiet, taking off her boots before making her way up the stairs and down the wooden hallway while tiptoeing. When she gets to the doorway for the living room she pauses and listens.

_Some basic chords… Now, chord A sounds like this…_

Chords? Huh?

_You put your first finger on the fourth string, the D string, on the second fret. You put your middle finger on the third string, second fret, and your third finger on the second string, second fret. Apply pressure firmly and strum…_

Holy shit. She gets it when she hears the chord being played from her living room, not from some video that she's pretty sure he's watching. Dean's found a fucking hobby. No way. No fucking way.

She lets her presence be known then as she was beginning to feel like an eavesdropper. That felt a little wrong. Leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed over her chest, she looks at him.

"Hey there, rock star," she says to him with a wide grin.

"Jesus, fuck!" he calls out, immediately dropping Lou's guitar onto the cushion next to him and standing up. The way he moves, the jittery demeanor, he looks like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It's adorable. "I thought you were coming back around two?

Lizzy, still keeping her shit-eating grin, casually points over to the clock on the wall. He looks over and sees that it's two-seventeen. He lost track of time.

"Whatcha doing?" she asks with lighthearted fun.

"Baking cupcakes," he sarcastically bitches as he closes out the window on her laptop playing the instructional video. He then immediately picks up the guitar and walks to the corner of the room.

"Chocolate I hope," Lizzy mentions her favorite flavor cake as she buys into his caustic attitude for just a moment. She watches him gingerly replace the instrument onto its stand, showing the respect he has for the item, and Lizzy couldn't be happier to see it.

Dean just glares at her for the comment and plops back down onto the couch, picking up the glass of whiskey he poured three hours ago and never touched once he started with the guitar. He takes a large gulp down and picks up the TV remote, turning the mute off just to have some noise in the room.

"What, are you embarrassed or something?" Lizzy says while still beaming as she walks across the room and plops down onto the couch next to him.

"God, you stink," Dean comments when she's closer and, as he should have expected, she gets a punch to the arm. "Ow."

"Working hard will do that to a person," she brushes off his attempt at putting her down a bit to even the score. She was kicking ass all afternoon. Not going to work on her. "So what made you go for it?"

"Nothing."

"Something," Lizzy pries harder.

"I figured what the hell," Dean tells her. "It's just sitting there. Why not?"

"Well I can't come up with one good reason why not myself," she tells him, a hand on his shoulder. "And I think it's a great idea."

When he looks at her with something akin to shock Lizzy laughs a little bit.

"What? It  _is_  a good idea."

"Ok, I just…"

"You just what?"

"I just figured you wouldn't be that cool about me… using  _Lou's_  guitar."

"Of course I would be fine with it," Lizzy says, her brow wrinkled in confusion. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Lou hated me, L. The woman  _hated_  me," Dean reminds her. "And that," he points at the guitar. "Is her baby. I know what that means to a person. I think… I feel… like it wouldn't make her that happy to know it was me playing it. Especially since I have not a fucking clue what I'm doing."

"Hate is a very strong word," Lizzy tells him.

"Yeah, and used properly," Dean comments right back and sips his drink.

"Lou never… hated you," Lizzy tries to assure as she pulls his free hand into her lap and closes her own around it. "She may have wanted to but she didn't. Lou had never truly hated anyone. It's not in her nature."

"Well she fooled me then…"

"She fooled a lot of people with her shitty attitude," Lizzy smiles slightly with this. "She came off cold and tough. She came off like it was hard to affect her, to get inside that hard heart of hers, but it totally wasn't. Not a lot of people got to know the real Lou because once we started hunting she became guarded and so weary of everyone else. But some of us still got to see who she really was. She was always herself with me. Sam got to see it too. I just wish you did before she… died."

"I wasn't her sister and I wasn't her fuck buddy though," Dean points out why she'd be so standoffish with him.

"But you were her little grease-monkey buddy," Lizzy points out. "You let her go near your baby and she knew how much that meant, how big that gesture was. Lou had… some tough feelings towards you. You hurt me and that's not easy to come back from with her. But before you dropped me like a bad fucking habit you got to her. She saw the real you after Oklahoma City, after you proved that you cared about me and cared about her too. She told me she was less worried after that experience. Lou said she saw the way you looked at me, the way you acted so differently when I was near you, and she told me that your brother had vouched for you."

"Sam did?" Dean asks, a little surprised that he would. Sam had his reservations about the whole Lizzy thing from the get also. Maybe his little brother was more observant than he realized.

"Oh yeah. Told Lou to relax and she took a lot of stock in that. She felt that Sam wouldn't lie to her, even if it's about you." Lizzy squeezes his hand tighter. "Lou held a grudge with professionalism. It was something that she personally needed to work on and I used to tell her that. She held onto everything way too hard. I know, I  _know_  that if she were here today, if Lou could see us now, she'd be good. Hell, she'd be happy for us. I mean it. And I know her better than anyone else ever has."

Dean looks at her and squeezes right back. It's somehow good to know that Lou didn't really have the hate-on for him that he thought she had.

"So… please, if you want to… use her guitar." Lizzy smiles once more after the serious conversation. "I can't stand that it just sits there anyways, never making the music that it used to. If you can make it useful, if it can make someone else even a fraction as happy as it made Lou, please… Dean, please use it." She then places a comforting hand on his cheek. "And if you're not gonna get a fucking job yet, at least have a hobby."

"Fuck off," Dean rolls his eyes and takes back his hand.

"Take your time, I was kidding," she tells him, cupping his face to kiss him. "I mean it too. Seems like the right thing for you anyways… playing guitar."

"I  _have_  always liked music," Dean admits with a grin.

"Correction… LOVED," Lizzy exaggerates and kisses him again. "And I love you. And I love showers so I am gonna go take one right now."

"Ok," Dean says as she stands up. He realizes now that she's wearing tight black yoga pants and a white t-shirt clinging to her body with sweat.

"That way I won't be so smelly," she patronizingly says to him, turning to face him once before she walks out the door.

After she's gone Dean gulps down the rest of his drink and stands up. As he follows her down the hall he calls to her, "Those clothes _are_ a little tight. You might need some help getting out of them…."

* * *

 


	17. September 15th

"Howdy, stranger."

Shutting his eyes tightly, Sam just wants to curl up and disappear. He knew this was coming. How could it not be? Lucifer rode not only his ass but his mind too. It may not have been for long, but it was for long enough to know what that dick needs to know in order to royally fuck with Sam for all of eternity. In all honesty, he's a little shocked it took this long for his current visitor to come by.

"Giant, it's me!" her bright, happy voice calls out to him but he keeps his back turned away from her while in his small, stone and metal cell he's been thrown into for a long while now. He's been visited by Dean about a hundred times by now, Lizzy and Bobby almost as many times, Rina's dropped by and so has Jess… hell, even his dad and mom wanted to say hi and then somehow disappoint and shatter him immediately after. But  _she_  never came to him, not once. He figured Lucifer was waiting it out, waiting until he became used to the torture, used to the constant barrage of familiar yet unfamiliar faces. Now that he thinks about it, he sadly has grown used to it. Sam didn't even flinch when he snapped Dean's neck that last visit of his. There's only so many times he can be called a monster by his own flesh and blood without losing it.

But this is too much. He's not going to feed into it. Not this time.

"Sam, come on!" her voice calls to him with impatience as he hears a few footsteps come closer to him. "It' Lou!"

"No it's not," he whispers to himself, trying to keep his weary and worn mind in check. He wants nothing more than to run to the image and finally feel her again but it isn't really her. It's not. That's not Lou.

"What the hell, Sam!?" her voice asks with surprise and a touch of anger. "It's me! Don't you want to see me!?"

Not her. That's not his Lou. Not Lou.

"I've missed you," she says desperately, her voice echoing off the dank hell-prison walls. "I've missed you so much. It's been so long." Her voice chokes a little. "Been trying to get back to you this whole time. I just wanted to get back what we had."

He holds his head in his hands as he leans against the back cell wall, sitting with his knees drawn and back hunched. He inhales sharply and his skin jumps when a slender, petite hand drops onto his shoulder.

"Sammy, please," she practically begs of him. "I've come so far. Please, just… at least look at me."

God knows he wants to.

"I love you," Lou tells him, her voice true and just as honest as it always used to be. It was one thing he'd never forget about her, her voice. Not the frightful one she used while hunting or the one she used while joking around with Lizzy… but the voice she had when it was just them, when she was being open and caring towards him. He can't forget it. "I always have. I love you, Sam."

Knowing how much he will regret it, Sam turns his head and looks right at her.

"Hi," she whispers out and smiles when she sees him, her blue eyes sparking and looking right into his. Her lip pouts just a slight bit as it did on the rare occasion she got emotional and allowed herself to show it and her eyes water over.

"Hi," Sam sobs back as he sees her right there, right next to him. She looks so real. She looks so good.

"Oh, honey," she cries out quietly when she looks at the expression he wears. With a light, cautious hand to his cheek she lets her eyes spill over. "You look terrible. It's been so bad, hasn't it?"

Bowing his head and letting it all out, Sam cries harder than he can ever remember doing. Not since he lost her and then lost Dean to hell has he let go like this. It has been hard, harder than he could have ever imagined and what he imagined was horrific enough.

"I'm so sorry, Sam," she whisper to him as she brings her arms around his neck, pulling him into her hard. She kneels on the cement floor and he turns into her, hugging her right back. He's sure he's crushing her with the strength of his embrace but he can't back off or even lessen it if he wanted to. He just needed this so badly. "You don't deserve this. You didn't do anything big enough or bad enough to have to go through this."

Sam continues to just hang on and cry as he has nothing else he can do in the moment. Seeing her, even if he does know deep down that at any moment something dreadful and awful is going to happen, he falls into the comfort of it all too easily. While down in the pit he's been desperate for something, anything he can grasp and hang onto. He had Dean's words of wisdom and never ending strength of course and he has the memory of the comfort Lizzy always gave him and he even has Bobby's parting words of never giving the devil and inch and always fighting back but quite often he clung to whatever memories he still had of Lou. The feeling of being loved, truly loved, the warmth she gave him, the happiness she created within him anytime she called him on the road… it all helped him keep whatever semblance of sanity he could.

And now she's here.

"Lou," Sam cries out through the kind of sobbing Winchesters don't do. He hasn't fallen apart like this once yet, not once… until he's seen her.

He hasn't loosened his grip on her yet, absorbing her as much as he can. She smells the same, like the type of flowers he remembers finding at a house his dad rented when he was six. They were tiny, white, and they looked like bells as they hung down off their slender stems. Later in life he found out they were called Lily of the Valley. He picked some and put them in a glass of water on the kitchen table a few days after moving in. Dean made fun of him, calling him a girl, but when Sam said they were for their mom because he thought that she'd like them, Dean said nothing in return as he just couldn't. Those pretty flowers always reminded him of her on the rare occasion he'd ever see them again and when he met Lou, the first time he got close enough to her to smell the perfume she was wearing it immediately made him think of those flowers and the day he first picked them with his mother in mind.

He inhales deeply, enjoying her scent, and runs a hand through her long blond hair. He feels like he's home… whatever the hell that actually means… and for the first time in years he's catching a moment of solace and no matter how fleeting it is he's sure he'll always cherish this one second in cage-time.

"Oh Sam," Lou coos once more, cupping his face to look him in the eye. "I missed you so much, Iron Giant."

"It's been impossible without you," Sam lets her know the impact of her loss. "I can't."

"I never wanted to leave you like I did," Lou promises to him, brushing his dirty hair away so she can see him clear as day. "I know how hard that had to be…"

"Every day," he shakily cuts in as he never thought he'd have a chance to confess to her anything ever again. "I have thought of you every day since you died. God, it hurts how much I missed you."

She pulls him close and kisses him sweetly on the cheek.

"I should have told you," he confesses as she peers at him once more.

"You didn't have to," Lou actually smiles at this.

"But I should have said it," Sam tries again to make up for one of his biggest regrets in life. "You should have known how I felt. I couldn't admit I loved you with the lives we had. It scared the shit outta me."

"Eh, I kinda knew it anyways," Lou brushes off as she runs her fingers over the stress worn lines in his much older looking than she remembers face. "And I never said it either so I'm at fault too."

"Lou, I love you. I do," Sam's bleary eyes plead with her. "I have loved you for so long now."

"Right back at you, Giant," she grins wide, her eyes pooling once more with his direct confession.

"Feels so good to hear you say it," he tells her with his eyes closed in relief. He then remembers where he is at the moment and reality crashes back onto him. "Fuck, I'm so tired."

"I know, sweetie," she quietly replies with a soothing hand leaving his cheek to grab onto his hand and support him however she can. "It's too fucking much. No one can do this, not even my badass Giant."

"I don't know how… I can't. I just can't do this anymore."

"You don't have to," Lou explains. "I'll get you outta here."

With a huge sigh and a fresh wave of tears crashing over, Sam shakes his head and closes his eyes. "No you aren't. Don't say that."

"No, I'm gonna get you out Sam," she tells him, her face set in a determined expression. "Come with me."

"This is a trick," Sam says, shoulders slumped as the reality of what this is kicks in.

"Honey, I'm not leaving you here," Lou tells him, shaking his face just a little in her grip to get him to focus on her enough. His tired eyes lock once more into hers and he wants so badly to believe her.

"Lou… you aren't even really here," Sam tells her as if the image of her truly doesn't understand. "I know you'll be gone any second, or killed, or you'll try and torture me…."

"I would never do that," Lou cuts in with harsh denial.

"No,  _you_  wouldn't," Sam agrees completely. "But this version of you or whatever… definitely will."

"No, no, no. It's  _me_ ," Lou tries one last time, her voice calm and loving, before pulling him into a kiss. Her lips pressed to his, Sam wants to cry all over again. It's so real. It's her. Somehow this feels right, feels exact and warm.

He can't help his actions once she goes in and the next thing he knows he has her pulled flush against him, arms wrapping her small frame up and kissing her with everything he has in him as she straddles his lap on the floor. He misses her so fucking much it hurts and this feels too damn real to hold off.

"See? I'm right here," she tells him between frantic kisses, her hands in his hair.

"You'll be gone soon," he tells her, pressing his lips against hers. It seems just so unfair. Every time he's seen her in the past few years, whether it be during his greatest hits in heaven, his taunting dreams, or now in Lucifer's cage, there's always been a time limit. And he's always had to watch the time run out on them.

"I'm not leaving you," her determined tone tells him before kissing him once more, making him want to believe her so badly.

"But you will…" Sam assures her with his lips still brushing hers. "They all do."

"Not me." She stops and stares at him hard with clarity and love in her gaze.

"Yes, you… Lou, you aren't really here," Sam defeated tone assures her. "This is just Lucifer unleashing his best on me."

"You think  _this_  is my best?" Sam hears Lucifer's voice ask him with a light, humorous tone as Lou shouts in surprise when her head gets yanked back harshly. "That's just down right adorable, roomie. I thought you knew me better by now. Huh…."

Sam watches helplessly as his tormentor sharply pulls Lou off his lap and drags her backwards by a fistful of her hair, the look of shock and anger on her face as she scrambles along with Lucifer making a fire ignite in Sam's gut.

"Let her go!" Sam demands as he's instantly on his feet and standing tall. For the first time in years he's found the courage and strength to speak in such a way to Lucifer.

"Make me," Nick's face smiles back as he yanks even harder on Lou's hair, making her head snap back and her body hit the floor back first. She shouts her pain and Sam immediately steps forward, intent on heading Lucifer's way.

"Ah-ah," the devil wags his index finger at Sam, making him stop. "You know there's nothing you can do to make me stop, kiddo. This is my idiot box, remember? And it's gotten a little too All My Children in here for my taste. I'm changing the channel."

Sam stands tall, his back ridged and eyes alit with fire as he stares down his tormentor with balled up fists.

"Lucifer, I swear…"

"You swear what, big man?" Lucifer grins right back at Sam. "You got nothing, ok? I know it, you know it, this little bitch knows it." He pulls Lou back onto her feet by her hair and brings her face close to his. "Don't you, cutie?"

A quick moment of silent hatred as she comes face to face with Lucifer and Lou spits right in the devil's eye. "Fuck you."

It takes everything Sam has to not just flat out smile with the reaction, but just as the smile threatens his lips a realizations hits him hard. If she's reacting this way… is she real? Is Lou really down here with him? Why would Lucifer create an image of Lou that insults him? Shit.

"The last time someone spoke with such a tone I beat him within an inch of his life…" Lucifer informs her before turning to Sam. "You remember pummeling your brother while I was taking you for a spin, right Sammy?"

It's then that Lou begins fighting back. She tries her damnedest to throw a punch, land a kick, but with his unrelenting hold on her long strands she just can't get to him.

"You keep this up and I promise you'll hate my response," Lucifer warns with a bright smile.

"I'll kill you for what you've done to him!" Lou keeps trying in true Lizzy form. Sam sometimes forgets that as different as the two women are they still were very similar in some key ways. She may not be the hot head that Lizzy is but Lou certainly wasn't one to back down, even when her opponent is the biggest bad she's ever come across. "You're gonna die!"

That's when Lucifer lands a fist straight into her jaw.

"NO!" Sam bellows, his strength returning with his utter ire over what's unfolding in front of him. He charges the devil but before he can get too far Lucifer holds out his hand and sends him flying. Sam hits the back stone wall of his cell hard, dazing him with the blow to the back of the head.

"Oh yeah!" Nick grins menacingly before turning to Lou as she spits a mouthful of her own blood onto the dirty floor at her feet. "And maybe you should keep your mouth shut if you want to keep those pearl whites of yours."

Sam shakes his head to clear the cloudy fog that's descended on him. As he comes back he realizes he's suspended off his feet against the wall. As usual, he tries to break away from the wall and get to Lou, to help her somehow, when the pain flares up in his limbs. Looking himself over, he sees the large, metal spikes going through each of his palms and ankles, nailing him into the stone wall. He's not going anywhere.

"Sam!" Lou calls over to him, making him turn back to her and forget about his own pain for a moment.

"Lou," Sam says more in a worry than a statement. Lucifer still has his hold on her and now he's scared at what this is going to turn into. Her blue eyes are glazed over with tears that threaten to fall and the fear in her expression is heartbreaking. "You're alright."

"Sam, what the fuck do I do?"

"You're fine," Sam tries his hardest to sound calm and assuring. "Just be strong, ok?"

"Uh, what is this shit, a Nicolas Sparks novel? You two are gonna make me lose my fucking lunch," Lucifer rolls his eyes. "And trust me, you don't want to see what baby guts look like the second time around. Ew."

"Just let her go," Sam begs of the monster, dropping his pride completely and going against everything Bobby made him promise to do. "You can do whatever you want to me, I don't care. Just let her go."

"Wow, what an offer," Lucifer scoffs with sarcasm. "You're already mine, you moron. I've  _been_  doing whatever I want to you. That's not a deal." He huffs an unimpressed laugh.

Lucifer snaps his fingers and instantly there's a large, gleaming knife in his free hand. The sight of it makes Lou panic.

"Shit, no," she mutters as she struggles against his stronger than strong hold. "Oh fuck."

"You do realize who I am, right?" Lucifer asks Lou with levity as she scrambles around worthlessly. "Maybe you don't… Hi, I'm Lucifer, sadistic bastard. The more you struggle the more I like it so keep on going, baby."

Glaring at him, Lou stills herself.

"Stand up," Lucifer orders and she does as he asks.

Lou keeps her eyes bouncing back and forth between the devil and the man she came to save.

“Mm-mm-mm,” Lucifer admires as he looks her over.  “I gotta hand it to you, Sammy.  You know how to pick ‘em.  Not bad at all.”

“Please,” Sam tries one more time, not ready to deal with whatever it is that Lucifer plans on doing to the one person he can’t handle seeing harmed.  “Don’t do this.”

“Now why wouldn’t I do this?” Lucifer pauses, angry with the begging now.  “I was free, remember that?  You set me free.  Life was all sunshine and flowers and the blood of the innocent.  I was ready to give you everything, Sam.  _Everything_.  I could’ve even given you your slut back.  You were my savior, my vessel.  It all came down to you… and then you took it all away.  You shoved me back down here and took every chance I had to make a difference.  You took away everything I had.  And now I’m gonna take away everything you have left.”

Lucifer starts in and the rock of sheer dread in Sam’s gut grows into a boulder.  He shoves Lou against the side wall of the cell, head first.  Her temple takes the brunt of the hit and her eyes squeeze shut with the pain as her knees buckle under her.

Lou groans pitifully, her voice sounding so heavy, and Sam bows his head for a second to get away from the harsh image as much as he can.  When he looks back up Lou’s eyes are once more open and on him as her cheek is pressed to the stone, Lucifer pinning her there by a forearm to the back of her neck.  A trickle of blood makes its way down from her hairline and she looks slightly dazed.

“When I was in your head,” Lucifer starts to explain as he twirls the knife menacingly in his hand.  “I found out how you feel about this little minx.  I know how you think about her all the time, remembering what it was like to have her around or what your conversations were like over the phone… but mostly, you thought about all the things you two did when no one else was around.  You thought about all the fun you had tearing into one another.  I saw those memories and boy, this one is feisty!  Wow!”

“Please tell me you’re not really here,” Sam asks Lou, doing his best to ignore Lucifer.  “Lou, come on… you’re not here, right?  You’re not real.”

She doesn’t answer, just knits her brow together and looks away, making Sam think she is there.  This is no image of Lou.  This really is the woman he loves and couldn’t get out of his head.  She got down here.  She wanted to help him.

“And now that she’s here in person… well, with those rave reviews of yours Sam I’m just down right curious,” the devil smiles wide at Sam as the hunter snaps his focus onto him.  “ I want my turn on the ride, see if she’s really that good.”

“No,” Sam utters from the depths of his being.  “No.  You can’t do that…”

“Eh, I want to,” Lucifer rebuts with levity as he slips the sharp knife sideways down the back of Lou’s jeans before turning the blade and cutting clear through the heavy fabric right down the middle. 

“No, no, no, no, no,” Sam sputters out, the fresh wave of sheer panic washing over him as the tears fall silently down Lou’s face.  “Get away for her!”

Sam…” Lou cries his name pathetically as she tries fruitlessly to push away from the wall, asking for help from him as Lucifer slices away her clothing.  “Sam, please…”

“Lucifer, get the fuck away from her now!” Sam’s big scary hunting voice cuts clear through the small room.  He hasn’t been able to muster that tone in decades.  “Don’t fucking touch her!”

“Get down here and do it yourself, Sammy,” Lucifer chides and taunts as her lowers the shredded denim fabric down Lou’s thighs.  He laughs hardily while cutting through the hip of her panties that are now exposed, the thin cloth opening easily.

“No!” Sam bellows out again, his face red with utter fury.  “I will fucking kill you Lucifer!  You hear me!?  You’re dead!”

Flying way off the handle, Sam begins struggling against the huge nails in his hands and ankles, the pain barely even registering over his ire. 

“Ah, there it is,” Nick’s face grins wide with excitement to see this reaction from Sam.  “You’ve been so boring for a while now Sam.”  Lucifer points his large knife at the hunter.  “You got lazy.  I don’t like lazy… or complacent.  I like a challenge.  I like some reaction… like this.”  His smile widens as he watches Sam continue to fight.

“You got what you want then?” Sam pulls harder and harder, the blood trickling down his injuries without him caring much at all.  “This is what you wanted from me?”

“Of course!” Lucifer responds.  “I want the fun back, kiddo.  I want the fire!  I was getting so bored down here, shit!”  Sometimes the fallen angel sounds like a petulant child to Sam, which, considering his past, does make sense.  But a petulant child with a creative imagination and a penchant for pain and misery and having all-consuming, logic bending powers… that is one terrible combination. “But I found a way back into the fun, didn’t I?”  While keeping eye contact with Sam while a bright, excited expression is plastered to his face, Lucifer cuts away the other side of Lou’s panties, the last of her clothing from the waist down dropping away.

“Oh God no,” Lou whispers mostly to herself as her eyes close, the tears falling down her cheeks as she’s still pinned to the wall.

“Yes, you did,” Sam suddenly tries to reason, the fear making him try for a new angle.  “You got what you wanted.  You want me furious, you want me terrified… you got it.  You win.  Let her go and keep it up with me.  I’m the one you’re pissed at.”

And she’s the one you love, the one who might actually be just as important to you as that brother of yours.  Who knew that was possible with the fucked up, distorted relationship you two ass clowns have, huh?” Lucifer sneers.  “I mean, maybe… hm, maybe I shouldn’t do this… considering…”  He leans over to look more closely at Lou’s face from the side. 

“Considering what?” Sam asks, looking to stall as long as he can and hopefully find a way out of this.

“Hm?” Lucifer patronizes.

“You shouldn’t considering what?” Sam angrily asks.

“Considering how she’s… oh, never mind,” Lucifer grin something unsettling to Sam, the hunter now scared for whatever that offhanded comment could mean.  “You wouldn’t care much now since the whole thing is impossible anyways, another thing that’s all your fault.  So just forget I said it.”  He turns to look at Lou’s profile from behind.  “So sweetie, what do you say?  Want to find out what it’s like to be fucked by a real man?” 

Lou hears Lucifer unzipping the jeans Nick’s wearing and her body goes ridged with fear.  She fights back one last time in sheer panic, pushing her hands against the wall and trying her hardest to get away from the all-powerful devil without much results.  He’s far stronger than her.  She doesn’t stand a chance. 

Get the fuck away from me!” Lou screams with all she has and Sam’s heart drops to his feet.  Usually when she shouts she’s intimidating, scary.  But right now that tone is filled with total fear.  It’s more pathetic than anything.  “Don’t, please!  Don’t!”

“Hey, Sam?” Lucifer glances his way and meets Sam’s eyes.  “She’s a big fan of taking it from behind, right?”

As Lucifer enters her harshly in one, strong push Sam slams his eyes shut with disgust.  He can hear Lou shout out to him with shame, fear, anger, pain, and complete helplessness but there isn’t a damn thing he can do to help her. 

And that’s exactly how it goes.  For the next who knows how long Sam is forced to bear witness to one of the worst acts he’s seen yet down there, all the while the one girl he’s loved endlessly shouts, pleads, and cries for his help.

If hell were to actually have it’s bad days… this would be the worst.

* * *

 


	18. September 20th (Part 1)

* * *

Walking up to the perfectly suburban home, the kind that takes a good housewife and some solid cash to keep up, Sam reaches for his FBI badge in his jacket's breast pocket. He needs to talk to said housewife that lives there to get a better picture of what happened to her husband. The guy disappeared five days ago amidst a total of six others being found torn up with hearts missing. He knows there's a werewolf around, it being the cause of the dead victims, and he's pretty sure Daryl Raley has been turned.

Badge in hand, Sam takes the first step up the bright white wooden porch when the front door opens and makes him pause.

"If you think of anything else, no matter how small or silly, please… give me a call," he hears the balding man in a suit of his own say to the woman he assumes is Daryl's wife. Sam watches as the man, probably in his fifties, hands over a business card to Mrs. Raley with a smile.

"I will agent, thank you," Mrs. Raley answers back as she takes the card with a sad look.

"I promise we'll do everything we can to find you husband," the man assures before turning to head down the steps. As Mrs. Raley closes the front door the suited man stops short and looks at Sam. They stand there for a moment, the man at the top of the six steps and Sam at the bottom, evaluating each other.

"Well, I guess someone beat me to the punch on this one," Sam says without much worry as he pockets his badge, already sure the stranger is a hunter.

The older man just narrows his eyes in question.

"Relax, ok," Sam nonchalantly tells him. He points up the stairs at the mystery man. "Hunter," he says. He then points to himself. "Hunter."

"How'd you know?" the man asks and Sam huffs an instant laugh as he puts his hands in his pants pockets.

"Cheap suit, fake smile, basic business card, roughed up knuckles… it was easy. And, over time, it's not too hard to spot your own kind."

After taking another second of pause to really look over the younger hunter with suspicion, he decides to believe him. Whatever it is about the guy he seemed confident and legitimate. He also seemed like he's seen enough shit to fill a book and that's always a surefire sign of a hunter.

"Samuel," he says as he holds out his hand in Sam's direction while heading down the porch steps.

With a moment of weird recognition, Sam takes Samuel's hand with a slight smile. "Ah, I'm Sam."

"Small world," Samuel jests during the shake.

"Guess so," Sam answers before asking, "Though I haven't met any other hunters named Samuel out there yet. And I thought I'd met them all by now."

"Same here," Samuel agrees. "So how'd you catch wind of this one?"

"Newspaper reports," Sam explains. "A friend told me he found a pattern of missing people and it looked like a werewolf was in town."

"Familiar story," Samuel explains as he starts down the front walkway towards the street. "And this Daryl Raley…"

"Is the only one to go missing," Sam finishes for him. "I assume he got turned and is responsible for the deaths in town."

Samuel pauses and looks at the younger hunter once their conversation feels like a chat between coworkers. He doesn't know this guy at all and trust is definitely a huge issue for him.

"Look, Sam, no offence but… I got this one," Samuel tells him. "I've been hunting for longer than you've been alive. I can handle this one on my own. You should head elsewhere else and help some others." Samuel starts to walk away but Sam doesn't give up.

"You may be older," Sam calls out and makes Samuel turn back to face him. "But that doesn't make you better."

Narrowed eyes at Sam, Samuel finds his attitude offensive. "And just who do you think you are…."

"I'm well known enough in our circle by name alone that you shouldn't question me so much," Sam says with a stern tone. "So you either find a way to be helpful with this hunt or you can get the hell out of my way."

"You know the last guy that talked to me like that didn't really like my response all that much," Samuel warns while taking a step forward.

"And if you think that I'm gonna fight a geriatric hunter then you might have dementia," Sam rebuts right back.

Samuel pauses, respecting that fight the kid clearly has in him. He doesn't back down easy at all.

"Ok, I'll bite," Samuel says. "What's this famous name of yours?"

"Winchester," Sam informs him with hard set pride. "Sam Winchester."

And Samuel pauses again, his face dropping. Sam doesn't let the reaction slip by unnoticed.

"You know me now?" Sam says, swagger still in place.

"You could say that," Samuel answers while putting the pieces together. "Was your daddy a hunter too?"

"Raised me in it."

"And his name was John?"

Sam smiles with slick cockiness. "That'd be him alright."

"You know, it's funny," Samuel starts as he crosses his arms. "My Mary was seeing a guy named John Winchester back in the day."

And now it's Sam's turn to freeze and have his face drop completely.

"Wasn't exactly a huge fan of the guy," Samuel explains. "He seemed a little soft for my liking but I hear he toughened up quite a bit after Mary died."

No fucking way is all Sam can think to himself.

"I guess it really is a small world," the older hunter laughs quietly while shaking his head. "You never met that grand pappy of yours, did you Sam?"

"No… not until now I guess," Sam answers with a shocked tone.

"Well call it your lucky day then," Samuel holds out his hand again. "It's nice to meet you, Sam. I'm your grandfather, Samuel Campbell."

Speechlessly he shakes the man's hand for a second time.

"I think we need to talk, son."

* * *

"What do you want to do this weekend?" Lizzy asks Dean out of the blue as she sprawls out on the couch, Dean lounging in the oversized upholstered chair next to it with her laptop resting on his legs. "I have both Friday and Saturday off and soon I'll be working two jobs so we should take advantage."

"Ah, well…" Dean starts but has severe reservations about what he plans on suggesting. "We could take a little road trip up north."

"Yeah?" Lizzy asks with fun curiosity.

"Yeah, I mean I hear it's nice up there," Dean excuses. "We could just start driving and end up somewhere in, say, New Hampshire. Only been up that way a couple times before."

With his eyes still glued on the computer screen he doesn't at first see the suspicious look from Lizzy. When she's quiet for too long he peers over to her.

"What?" he asks with innocence when her eyes are skeptically glued to him.

"What's up?" she asks, giving him the let's-skip-the-bullshit-and-tell-me-what's-going-o n-with-you look.

"I found something," he says, following the statement up with a comically nervous face.

"Dean…" she starts to complain but he stops her.

"No, hear me out first," Dean asks and she shifts to look at him straight on. She sighs and then nods at him once to let him talk. "So, I was reading the local newspapers for the surrounding areas…"

"Why?"

"Habit I guess," he shrugs. It's an honest answer. Old habits die hard, very hard sometimes, and when he was alone he sometimes found himself looking for work like old times out of sheer muscle memory. "And I read this special interest article about a woman who ran her car off the road and into a tree outside Nashua. She claims a little boy ran out in front of her and just stood there. She swerved to avoid him and hit a huge oak by accident. She immediately got out of the car to look for him but the boy was nowhere to be found."

"Kids are quick," Lizzy adds, trying to think logically.

"Not usually at two in the morning while almost getting hit by a car," Dean rebuts. "The article says this has happened a few other reported times on the same road… Indian Hill Road. In the past five years the police have gotten calls six times from people who claim to have seen a young kid running out into the street and stopping in front of their car. It's a local urban legend even, spanning decades. This last lady got a concussion and a broken arm and another guy two years ago ended up with his car in a ditch and a gash on his head. People are getting hurt by whatever this is and it's only a matter of time before someone kills themselves trying to avoid ghost boy."

"Jesus," Lizzy responds, her body language leaning in towards him and her face concerned. He's got her roped in already. She's so obvious.

"So the article claimed that no little boy has ever died on that road in recorded history so I did the next best thing and searched the local history of the surrounding properties on the road."

"How'd you do that from here?" Lizzy questions, knowing that usually in order to get access to local history in the form of old newspapers and records one has to be at the library in person.

"Hacked into the online database with a fake library card access number."

Eyes wide and sitting upright with his answer, Lizzy's shocked.

"Hey, I did learn a few things from my too-smart little brother over time," Dean tells her as he swallows hard with his words. He still has a hard time mentioning Sam, even in a positive light.

"Alright, Hackers… what'd you find?"

"Found out…" he starts as he turns the computer to face her and hands it over. Lizzy takes it and looks at the article pulled up on the web browser. "That in the early twentieth century there was a family, the Bickles, that lived off the road next to a cemetery. One night they were attacked by a couple dudes. They were all offed execution style behind the house. Four members of the family were found in the backyard, burlap bags tied over their heads and lying face down in the grass next to each other... all with a shotgun blast to the back of the head at point blank range."

"Fuck," Lizzy laments with horror at the idea. "Why?"

"No one knows," Dean concurs. "The husband's body was all beat up too. They think he tried to fight off the intruder, or intruders, but wasn't able to. The whole thing is pretty brutal."

"So what happened to the fifth member?" Lizzy asks as she looks over the family portrait that's posted at the top of the article.

"The youngest kid, Owen, was found in the front yard. He'd been shot in the back unlike the rest of the family and he didn't have a bag over his head. There was also a blood trail across the front lawn that came from the surrounding woods but the police back then said they couldn't follow past a few dozen feet into the tree line. The theory was that the kid got away and ran but didn't run fast enough."

"Poor thing," Lizzy sadly comments as she looks at the boy in the picture. He's so small, so young. Life is truly unfair and confusing at times… and humans still scare her more than any monster ever could.

"If you look at the local map," Dean starts as he moves from the chair to sit next to Lizzy on the couch. He reaches over and pulls up the Nashua map, zoomed into Indian Hill Road. "The direction the blood trail came from tells everything. If Owen ran in that direction through the woods…" He points to show her.

"He'd end up smack in the middle of Indian Hill Road," Lizzy finishes for him. "Owen is the one showing up and freaking people out." She looks over to Dean. "He's trying to get help for his family."

"Exactly," Dean says with a heavy heart. "We gotta put this poor kid out of his misery. He's been reliving his own nightmare over and over again for a century. L, it's gotta stop."

After a pause, Lizzy agrees. He knew she would. Not only is it a poor soul stuck on a loop endlessly, it's a kid. Kids will always be Lizzy's weakness.

"How you wanna go about this?" she questions, looking back to the small boy in the family portrait.

"Well, I'm having a hard time finding where the family is buried," Dean starts to tell her. "All the details after the family was discovered are pretty hazy. I figure we should check out the cemetery next to their old house to see if we can find the family plot. Good chance they'll be there."

"Or we could just summon the kid." Lizzy looks over to him with a bright, almost excited face.

"You want to talk to him?"

"Well, he'd probably know where he's been buried," Lizzy assumes. "Or where the family plots are."

"Unless he's just a residual," Dean points out. "He could be just stuck in the loop from that night, reliving it over and over. If he is then he's not gonna talk to us, or even know we're there no matter how hard we try."

"Unless we snap him out of it," Lizzy's eyes light up as she hands over the computer and heads quickly into the bedroom. Dean places it on the coffee table and follows along with sheer curiosity. "Lou and I dealt with something just like this once, with a death echo."

"But a death echo is different…" he tries to rebut while watching her from the doorway. She's kneeling on the carpet in front of their desk and opening the top drawer, searching through it.

"True, but they aren't all that different if you think about it," Lizzy keeps explaining, not finding what she's after. She opens the second drawer and keeps going, missing the uncomfortable shift on his feet that Dean makes while seeing her search. "Both are on a loop, both are constantly reliving their final moments. If a death echo can snap out of it then why can't a residual spirit? It's been known on rare occasions to happen and I've been known to be persistent."

"I guess it's worth a shot…"

"And Lou found this great summoning spell for ghosts, one from a wiccan book she ganked from a library in Salem that brings a ghost to you and makes it fully aware that it's able to communicate with us so…" she says while opening the bottom drawer.

"L, wait!" Dean takes a step forward to stop her but it's too late. She's looking into the drawer while frozen in place.

"What the fuck is all this?" she questions as she pulls out some ancient looking books and endless manila files and notebooks, all with Dean's handwriting all over them.

Dean closes his eyes and sigh. Busted.

"Dean, what is this stuff?" Lizzy questions, never having seen all the research she's come across.

"You know what it is," he says in a small, almost ashamed tone.

Lizzy sits onto the floor, spreading out all the research in the drawer to look it over. There' a lot. He's been busy, probably while she was at work. Silent as she observes everything, Dean grows worried.

"I know it's wrong," he starts. "I know I'm not supposed to be trying and Sam asked me not to but… I can't leave it alone."

Lizzy doesn't respond.

"I'm sorry," Dean says, his face showing his inner torment and torn position. "He's my brother, L. He's stuck there. I can't just…" He sighs heavily. "If there is an answer, a safe one…"

"You want to find it." She looks up at him from the floor not with a face of anger but with one of understanding.

"I want him out," Dean's chin trembles a little. "I want him far away from all of… that. I want him home."

"So do I," Lizzy whispers as she gets up from her spot. She heads for the hallway weapons closet and opens the door. She crouches to the floor and pulls up one of the hardwood floorboards. Once she stands up she has stacks of files in her grip.

Walking to him, Lizzy drops the files into his hands.

"So do I, Hot Shot," she says, her eyes sad.

"What's this?" he asks, opening the top folder to peek inside.

"It's my own Save-Sammy research," she informs him while sitting back down and flipping through what he has. "I haven't really figured out how to live with it either. The two of you have a bond that's beyond… anything. But Sam was mine too, my brother too. I don't know how to just let it happen while sitting by just like you don't."

"Jesus," Dean returns, not even bothering looking through everything at the moment. He closes the file and looks at her. "When do you work on this?"

"When you blacked out and I can't sleep," she admits, her head lowered. "And it's stupid and so fucking dangerous to even think about poking that box but… can't let it just go without at least having a look see, without trying."

Dean nods at her, still a little too surprised to answer her. He never expected this. Lizzy is the sensible one. She does the right thing every time no matter how much it hurts to. The fact that she's been looking for a way to bring Sam back just like he has is not at all expected. He assumed she'd want to kill him for trying at all. Instead they're on the same page.

"Did you find anything…"

"Dean," she stops him while stacking up the books and notebooks and stowing them right back into the drawer she found them in. "There's no safe answer anywhere. We open that box again and we undo everything Sam gave his life for. All of his sacrifices would be wasted. The more I looked the more I realized how bad an idea it is." Once his findings are put back she sits Indian-style on the floor by the desk with a hunched back and looks up at him. "I want him back too. I don't want Sam to go through that, to suffer like that…" And the tears start to fall. She presses her hands to her chest and breathes out a hard sob. "God it hurts. Every day it fucking hurts, like my heart is getting ripped out. And it won't stop and it won't get better. I pretend it doesn't kill me but every time I wake up and he's still down there I die a little more." She lowers her head and gives in to the ever going sorrow of it all.

As Dean sits down on the floor facing her, mirroring her position, he realizes that he hasn't seen her lose it like this once since it all happened. She's either kept it together or hidden her moments of breakdown from him. He always suspected she wasn't as good as she appeared and, since he knows her so well, he just assumed she was putting on a brave face for him.

"I'm stronger than this, I'm sorry," Lizzy sobs out when she sees the concern on Dean's face.

"No one's stronger than this," Dean says with certainty to her.

"But I need to be…"

" _No one_  is supposed to be stronger than this, L," Dean stops her. "And you don't have to be either. It's ok that this whole thing hurts this much. It  _should_  hurt like bitch."

As if she needed permission all along, Lizzy crumbles once his words set in. Her face buried in her hands, sobs wracking her entire body. As always he can't stand to see her fall apart like this so Dean reaches over to her and pulls her by the upper arms into himself. She settles into his lap and hugs him tight, letting out all she hasn't allowed herself to let out just yet.

"You've been holding onto this way too long," Dean tells her, his face buried in her hair as he holds her through it. "You don't need to do that for me anymore. And it's about time I helped you."

"We can't get him, can we?" she sadly asks, very clearly knowing the answer already.

"Not looking too good just yet," Dean voice answers, coming out choked up. He'd give anything to be able to help his brother but everything he's come across is a dead end, too risky or just plain stupid.

Her forehead pressed to his neck, Lizzy nods a bit. "This is what he wanted. I tell myself that every minute of every fucking day. He wanted this. This is what Sam wanted."

He closes his arms tighter around her.

"He fucking wanted this."

"He did," Dean agrees. "And he did it for us."

"And the billions of other people out there," Lizzy reminds him.

"Mostly us though," Dean quietly jests, his hand combing through her long, red tinted hair.

"Want him back." Lizzy sighs hard as her sobs start to calm. "I just want him back with us, safe."

Furrowing his brow with just how badly he wants that too, Dean tries to change the subject. There's only so much he can take before diving hard right back into a whiskey bottle. Granted he's still drinking far too much, but he's functional again. He doesn't want to go back to the full blown disaster he was before, the one that almost lost Lizzy.

"If we can't help him, instead we can help other people," Dean tells her. "And you know Sam would want us to help."

"But he said he wanted us out of hunting," Lizzy reminds, picking up her head and looking Dean in the eye.

"I don't think a little kid ghost was on that list," he assures. "We can handle this. It's small time. And once we know something like this is out there… how do we ignore it?"

Nodding while wiping her watery eyes, Lizzy concurs. "Can't let someone else get hurt."

"No we can't. We're too awesome." With that Lizzy laughs very quietly. "So I figure we can head out tonight, when you get off work," Dean suggests as he brushes the long hair out of her face. "I'll pack the Impala up while you're gone and pick you up when you're done. It's only a few hours' drive up north and we can find a place to stay when we get there. Then we have Friday and Saturday to figure it all out."

"Ok," Lizzy says, on board so far.

"We'll make a game plan tomorrow morning once we take a look around," he continues, his hands landing on her cheeks.

"Sounds good," Lizzy half smiles. "And it'll be nice to get out and get back to normal."

"Normal, huh?" Dean nearly has to laugh at her comment. "Hunting is normal to you now?"

"It is to  _you_."

"Not you though," he rebuts right back.

"So it's  _our_  normal then," she says back. "We've never known each other outside of hunting until now. It's always been a huge part of us."

"Very true," he answer back, a quick, innocent kiss to her lips. "And we do work well together."

"That we do."

" _Really_  well together," Dean emphasizes and kisses her again, this time a little deeper. "Perfectly together." This time he heads in with intent but she stops him.

"I need to dry my eyes before you put the moves on me, Hot Shot."

"Fair enough."

"And really?" she questions as her crying calms more. "You're trying to get into my pants after I break down like this? I'm all red and snotty."

Dean just shrugs his shoulders. If he explained out loud that her obvious love for his family and want to save Sam was an actual turn on for him he might look ridiculous. He just loves her so damn much that even this kind of thing makes him want to physically show her.

"Shit, I have to admit… and I never thought I'd say this… but I miss driving around in the car sometimes," she tells him while wiping her eyes. "I mean, I like having a home base, don't get me wrong, but it's so quiet and always the same. Sometimes I just want to get out."

"It is  _so_  good to hear you say that," Dean says with excitement and total relief. "I thought it was just me. I'm climbing the walls around here."

"Well next time tell me," she says to him. "Sam said to get out but hunting has changed us. We need to get back to it now and then and do some good. I think we can make a compromise."

"I want to do that," he nods. "I think I need that, honestly. This whole regular life is nice but… it's too much of a change all at once."

Lizzy just nods. She knew he'd never be able to just quit outright. He's been on the road since he was four and Dean's always embraced the hunting life, unlike Sam. It's in him, deeply written into his DNA, and he needs that. She understands completely and she'll do whatever it takes to make this new life of theirs work for him. He deserves that.

"I think I'm ok now," Lizzy smiles small as she looks into his green eyes that clearly are looking at her with a little something behind them.

"Good." Dean just grins at her.

"So… you wanna fuck or what?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Dean jests as he pulls her in hard, kissing her and swiftly laying her on her back on the carpet of their bedroom.

* * *

 


	19. September 20th (Part 2)

* * *

"So you just dropped down onto Earth out of the blue just like me?" Sam questions before he sips his coffee at the dinner down the street from the Raley's house.

"Sounds like it," Samuel agrees completely. "One moment I'm giving that demon with the yellow eyes a ride, the next I'm in heaven. Then I wake up sprawled out on the grass in front of a headstone that has my name on it."

"In Lawrence?"

"Yes," he tells Sam instantly. "And I was alone. For whatever reason… Deanna wasn't with me. Don't know why I was the important one. Kinda makes me nervous, you know?"

"Jesus, this family dies a lot," Sam laughs a bit to himself as he's reminded once more of all the death in his bloodline. He misses the angry expression that appears on his grandfather's face.

"Is that some kinda sick joke or something?" he asks Sam, ire present and clear.

"No, not at all. It's just the truth," Sam tells him without much worry. "You were dead, grandma's dead, mom, dad, our friends. Hell, even my brother and I have been known to… resurrect… quite often."

"So this isn't the first time this has happened to you?" Samuel asks, eyes wide with serious concern and shock.

"No way," Sam answers easily, taking down a sip of coffee. He got it to appear normal and polite, even if the caffeine isn't needed anymore. "I mean, shit, we've both been to hell and back… literally."

"You brother's been to hell too?" Samuel asks, the shock still running through his system.

Sam nods casually, not registering his grandfather's worry. "Went for me, actually. I died and he sold his soul to get me back. Spent four months down there." His tone is too factual for such a heavy admittance.

"Good brother," Samuel remarks, his forehead wrinkled with what he learns. Damn, these kids have seen it all. Maybe he shouldn't assume he's got more in his back pocket than them.

"You know, um… he might be the best," Sam answers back, his words being taken as heartfelt… however in Sam's mind it's just a logical thing once he thinks it over. Most people wouldn't make such a sacrifice. Dean did. That has to make him the best, right? He's pretty sure it qualifies him.

"Looks like you two were raised well enough. You realize the importance of family at least," Samuel observes.

"Yeah, we sure do. That and dad knew how to make a couple good, dedicated soldiers."

"Knowing Mary, she would have killed him for that," Samuel remarks, well aware of his daughter's hatred for the life.

"So I've been told," Sam says right back, Dean having made it clear his whole life that Mary would completely disapprove. "My brother and I, we've been through a lot, more than any other family probably, but we're better hunters for it. We work well together. Perfectly… for the most part."

"Then where is he?" Samuel asks, wanting to see this long lost grandkid of his. He remembers the guy claiming to be Mary's son that showed up on his doorstep the day he died. He'd been trying save Mary, save her from the yellow eyed demon, and though he failed miserably the guy  _did_  try. And he's just plain curious to see him again and see the pair working together.

"Ah, well, he's out of commission."

"Why's that?

"Dean's out."

"Out?" Samuel questions. "What's that mean, out?"

"It means he got out… of the life," Sam explains. "He and his wife quit hunting when I took the hell-cage plunge."

"Wife?"

"Yeah, he married another hunter. Her name's Lizzy. She's good, damn good. She even went on the road with us for a few years and actually kept up. Hunting world took a hell of a hit when they left it all behind."

"So some chick comes along and a few years later Dean's slowly turning into Mr. Cleaver?"

"Pretty much," Sam huffs a small laugh. The idea does seem quite ridiculous if he thinks about it.

"Must be some looker," Samuel jests as he takes a sip of coffee.

"Yeah, she is," Sam instantly and wholeheartedly agrees. Though he'd never leave killing evil for a woman, he knows if he did it'd take a girl like Lizzy to make him do it.

"And Dean's sounding more like Mary now," Samuel explains. "All she ever wanted was a quiet life, one with John… one that was far away from me and hunting as possible."

"I doubt Dean's doing that well with dropping hunting," Sam says with certainty. "He loves the job. Deep down, yeah, he wants the family and the normal life… but he wants the blood and the fight too. I really don't know how he's managed to stop all together. He belongs on the road…"

* * *

With the windows rolled down to catch the cool August night air, Lizzy smiles. She's slouched in the passenger seat of the Impala with her bare feet resting on the open window ledge. Singing along to 'LA Woman' in the middle of her Classic Rock is Awesome playlist, she couldn't be happier. It's an odd place she's in with life, one in which the coveted normal life is within arm's reach yet the call of the road and the pull to help those in need are still just too strong to completely deny. After the past four months of mourning and struggling to make sense of everything, this moment, one of familiarity and freedom, is exactly what she needs.

And Dean is in exactly the same headspace.

"Ah, I missed the open road," he says to both Lizzy and himself as the two a.m. traffic on a Thursday night is as empty as it should be. There're no other cars in his way and he flies over the highway pavement with glee. The corners of his mouth have actually been turned slightly up from the moment he got into the car and asked Baby if she was ready to get back to it before picking Lizzy up. He did miss long drives with his girlfriend on the side.

"It does feel pretty good," Lizzy says right back, her feet tapping and spirits lifted.

"It feels awesome," Dean immediately adds, his hands sliding over the comforting feel of the steering wheel. "So needed this."

"You and me both," Lizzy tells him, pulling her feet back into the car and turning to look at her husband with her legs tucked under her. "You seem to be doing better."

Glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes for a second, he sighs a bit. "I'm holding it together."

"Yeah, you kinda are," Lizzy nods with recognition. "And I'm proud of you… for whatever that's worth."

"Proud of what?" Dean questions, not seeing anything in himself for her to hold pride in at the moment.

"You've been trying so hard," she starts. "I know how terrible it is and how demolished all of this has left you. But you're not drinking yourself to death anymore… and you're functioning. You're making your way back to livable and, again, knowing how impossible it feels… you're still fighting and trying. And I have a sneaking suspicion you're doing it mostly for me. I'm proud of you for that."

"Jesus…"

"Oh come on! What!?" Lizzy asks with impatient exasperation.

"You're just so fucking girly sometimes."

"Yeah…" she says with obviousness. "'Cause I'm a girl."

To this Dean shakes his head and lets it go. Sure, it was sweet of her to say, but it was too lame and too emotional for him to take seriously. Fuck it. Not having that convo.

"And as a girl, I'm pretty good at a few particular things," she says to him, her tone changing instantly as she slides over in the bench seat until she's sitting right up against him. Lizzy kisses his neck slowly once. "And with how hard you've tried to be that man I married, the one who's sweet and kind and sexy and seriously loving when no one is looking… I feel the need to further motivate you to keep going."

Dean grins when her hand lands on the front of his pants.

"You're gonna reward me?" he smiles slickly as he peeks over to her.

"I think you deserve it," she tells him as he turns back to the road. She leans in close to him, running her tongue around the shell of his ear.

"Fucking A, I deserve it," Dean fully agrees as she lowers his zipper.

"You wanna make this road trip more interesting?" Lizzy asks him with lust, her voice lowered and her hand already freeing him from his jeans.

"Oh absolutely I do," Dean wholeheartedly responds, a quick grunt from him when her hand wraps around him and gives one slow pump.

"Just have to do one thing for me then," she smiles out before circling her tongue around the spot below his ear, the spot that makes him shiver every time.

"Anything," he tells her, exhaling loudly as she works him over, her hand so perfect on him.

Lizzy tucks her legs under herself and kneels next to him. She kisses his lips once, careful not to obstruct his view too much, before playfully telling him, "Keep your eyes on the road, Winchester."

She lowers her head and takes in his full length in one quick movement, ignoring the very slight swerve of the Impala as she does.

* * *

"Dead end," Sam mutters loud enough for his suddenly-paired-with-partner to hear him as they look through the house of Daryl Raley's brother without much luck. There's no sign of the guy and what might have happened to him. After checking every room they've reconvened in the living room.

"Looks like," Samuel complains also as he comes up empty handed much like his grandson, the small house looking just too perfect for a bachelor. "This place is just short of Better Homes and Garden."

"I'm thinking OCD," Sam logics with the neatness, having noticed the same thing.

"What's that?"

"Obsessive Compulsive Disorder," Sam explains, forgetting that the man with him has been gone for over thirty years.

"Sounds like one of them new-age, wussy disorders that's complete bullshit," Samuel complains, thinking worse of the world for all their new excuses for people's defects. There's a diagnosis for everything these days he's come to find. "Back in my day we'd just call him fruity."

"And from now on let's make sure I do the talking in public, huh?" Sam worries with the hint of a smile as he hears the way Samuel talks. Things have changed since his day and sometimes they need people on their side to get the job done. "So Daryl Raley disappears four days after his brother Merle does…"

"And all the while people are getting their hearts ripped out all around them," Samuel picks right up.

"So are we seriously looking at… brother werewolves?" Sam asks, almost in disbelief over the sentence that just came out of his mouth.

"Sounds ridiculous to me too," Samuel huffs, thinking it's nuts also. "Sure you don't wanna even things up, call Dean and get him in on this one?"

Sam sure does.

"Nah," Sam brushes off while lying. "He's outta hunting shape. A werewolf is not how you get back into the family business."

"The family business?" Samuel pauses his searching and looks over to Sam. "That's what you call it?"

"Dean did."

"Hm," Samuel thinks it over. "I kinda like that."

Just then the front door opens. Both hunters immediately pull out their guns and aim at the man walking through the door.

"Whoa!" the new guy calls out and panics when he sees the two men standing in his living room. "What the fuck!?"

"Hands where we can see them," Sam booms out, ready and rearing to go.

"Shit, ok," he says back and drops his red duffel bag onto the floor of his foyer, his keys jingling from their place still in the deadbolt. He holds out his hands to the two men in suits aiming their guns at him. "What is this?"

"Get in here!" Samuel calls out as he points to the upholstered chair in the living room. "Sit down, now!"

Sam might have just decided he likes his grandfather and his ways. He's quick, a man of action, and his stern voice… damn near as good as his father's was.

The man takes a seat as asked, his fear clear as day as his focus shifts sharply between the two of them. His hands are still raised with their palms to the hunters and they're shaking with fear.

"Gimme your arm," Sam demands as he puts his gun back behind his back. He nods to Samuel to keep his own handgun on the mystery man. The older hunter nods back in agreement.

"Why do you need my arm!?" he alarms, his eyes wide with fear.

"Just do it!" Sam shouts back. He holds out his arm and Sam grabs his wrist tightly. He then pulls out a silver knife.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" the guy asks, trying to pull his arm back to no avail. Sam moves quickly, making a shallow slice just below the inside crook of his arm. Nothing. No burning reaction. Just red blood. "Shit! Are you insane!?"

The human pulls his arms back sharply, clamping his hand down on his fresh wound.

"Huh," Samuel says with confusion as he lowers his aim.

"I know," Sam concurs as he's confused too.

"Somebody gonna tell me what the hell is going on here!?" the man panics further as the two men stand over him.

"You're Merle Raley?" Samuel pries.

"Yeah."

"You're brother's been missing?" Sam tacks on.

"Four days now," Merle answers with a touch of sadness. "Spent the last seventy-two hours looking for him myself but…" He shrugs. "Can't find him anywhere."

"Then I think we need to have a discussion with you, son."

* * *

"Well  _now_  I just feel like I'm at home," Lizzy jests as she walks into the dive motel they found just outside Nashua. The place is much like their other motels in the past; dirty, old, rundown, and suspicious smelling. Oh, and it has an outdoors theme with the unfinished wooden furniture and woodland print wallpaper.

Dean laughs as he agrees when he walks in behind her. He kicks the door shut behind him and drops their bags on the floor.

"Ok on second though, I don't miss this part at all," Lizzy tells him as she sighs with her surroundings.

"Yeah, our place is a lot better than these old dumps, isn't it?" Dean tells her, knowing that as much as he wanted to get out on the road again and help people that he did actually get used to having a home and a place of his own that didn't have mysterious stains and cockroaches.

"Way better," Lizzy adds on as she flops onto the hard bed. "And comfier. Uh, this bed sucks."

"Well now you just sound spoiled."

"Because I've been spoiled!" she returns. "Our bed is the tits!"

"You'll survive," Dean brushes off as he takes a seat next to her. Sitting side by side, a hand on her knee, he looks over at her after the couple hour drive. Since they waited until her bar shift was over to leave it's now about midnight. "Wanna hit the hay? Get an early start?"

"Probably should," she says as she gets back up from her seat and walks to her duffel on the floor. She leans down to rifle through it while talking over her shoulder. "You want to do a drive by of Indian Hill Road and the cemetery first thing?"

"Good place to start," he admits while staring down her ass as she's bent at the waist and giving him one of his favorite views. Dean could stare at Lizzy's ass all day every day.

"Then if we find nothing we can head to the library for the day and summon the little guy at night if we're still lost."

"We're gonna have to block off the road somehow if we do," Dean continues on her train of thought as he views her kicking off her boots while heading for the bathroom. She preps her tooth brush and does the mundane but Dean's already got his gears turning. "Don't think the locals will take too kindly to devil worship in the middle of their roads."

"Fuck the devil," Lizzy sharply announces as she pops her brush into her mouth. "I will never worship that piece of fucking shit." Her voice is muffled but words are clear as day.

"Well aware," he tells her, toeing out of his own boots before getting up and walking to her. "But to the unknowing we look like satanic douche bags."

"You make a good point," Lizzy continues to brush, looking at him in the mirror to converse while he leans against the door jamb behind her. "Ooh, you know what? There was some road construction a few miles back. I bet no one is doing any work on the weekends. We could borrow some barrels or something, close the road down for just long enough… without catching police attention of course."

"Don't worry about the Gomer Pyle's out here," Dean scoffs easily. "We're on the outskirts of the city. It's New Hampshire. We'll be fine."

"If you say so, oh confident one," she laughs a bit before spitting into the sink. "But you're doing all the talking if we get caught."

Lizzy leans down and cups some water, using it to rinse her mouth, and when she comes back up she sees that Dean is standing right behind her from in the mirror.

"Well hey there," Lizzy greets with a wide smile as his arms circle around her waist and he presses his front against her back.

"Hi," he grins right back, brushing her hair away from her neck to plant a kiss there.

"So the road head wasn't enough for you?" she grins out while she can feel him through his jeans as he presses himself into her. Fully turned on and ready to go.

"Never."

"And what was it this time that's got you all hot and bothered?" Lizzy has to wonder as the night has been just too boring for Dean to get that look in his eye. She never knows when he'll just get plain horny and her curiosity over his triggers always gets to her.

"Just you," he tells her simply, his mouth still on her neck. She buzzes her approval as she loops her arm around his neck with what he does.

"Ah," Lizzy snaps her fingers when it dawns on her. "I bent over my bag to get my toothbrush."

Dean just hums a little in response as he keeps going, his hands reaching upward and grasping her breasts through her black t-shirt.

"Or it could be that we have the motel room to ourselves," Dean smiles out against her ear.

"Do old habits really die that hard?" she asks him, remembering when having the room to their lonesome was a rare occasion and when it happened they immediately exploded in sex, taking advantage before Sam came back. They live together now, just the two of them, but this feels just too familiar to let it go.

"This one sure does," he answers quietly and he grabs her hips and turns her until she's facing him. His hips press her into the counter's edge and he kisses her deep, his want quickly consuming him.

"Mm, remember when I first came out on the road with you two?" Lizzy starts to reminisce as she kisses his jaw once. "We hadn't really figured out how to find time alone yet? We were so desperate sometimes to just get a few minutes alone…"

Dean kisses her again, remembering how hard it was to get the room to themselves. "I remember in the beginning we went into the woods out behind a motel in Kentucky because we couldn't get away."

"Oh my God, yes," she laughs a little as she runs her hands up his shirt and over his stomach and chest. "You fucked me into that big sycamore tree like you were possessed."

"Needed you," he admits, his hand grasping her t-shirt hem and pulling it over her head. "Felt like I hadn't had you in years."

"Shit it'd been like…" she kisses him again. "A whole five days of no sex."

"Way too fucking long for me to keep my hands off of you," Dean tells her, "I never plan to go that long ever again for the rest of my life."

"Oh God, I am holding you to that," she sighs when his lips return to her neck and her eyes close with the charge running down her spine. "And we need to take a nature walk again sometime. My back was all scraped up but it was so worth it."

With that Dean backs off for a second. He looks her in the eye, a smile spreading quickly across his face, and he grabs her hand as he leads her out of the bathroom.

"Where we going, Slick?" Lizzy has to ask as he beelines for the front door.

"Out back," he simply says.

"To the woods?"

"Hell yeah."

"Wait!" Lizzy laughs as she pulls away from his hold.

"Why?" he looks back at her confused.

She holds her hands out to her sides. "I need a shirt for until we get out of view!" She only has her bra on from the waist up. "And shoes."

"Damn it, hurry up," Dean tells her as he rushes for his boots while she runs to grab her t-shirt he just took off. He looks around the room while forcing his feet quickly into his footwear and now that he's taking a second to think he pockets the room key so they can lock up and get back in when they were done. He then starts to pull the comforter off the bed.

"The hell you doing?" Lizzy wonders as she comes into the room while pulling her shirt over her head.

"Being the smart man that I am," he smirks to her as he balls up the fabric and stands tall. She laughs but doesn't ask again as she pulls on her combat boots, not bothering to lace them.

"Uh, ok. You ready now?" she grins wide.

"Absolutely," he tells her with honesty while looking her over one more time.

Lizzy laughs with how obviously excited and worked up he is. He looks a little like a kid about to go to Disney if you ask her. It's too damn cute.

"Come on," she smiles with her own excitement as she pulls him out the door.

"Awesome," Dean comments, loving how she's always ready to do something adventurous with him.

* * *

 


	20. September 21st (Part 3)

* * *

"You sure this is going to work?" Sam has to ask one final time as he and Sam sit in Sam's Charger across the street from Merle's house.

"It's all we've got," Samuel reminds, his eyes on the building and carefully keeping watch. "We know Daryl is really close to Merle. He's clearly made his hunting grounds based around his brother's house. All the deaths have been within a three mile radius of right here."

"But that doesn't mean he'll come back…"

"Yes it does," Samuel answers with absolute certainty. "This is his brother, his blood. You heard what Merle said. Their parents died in a car accident when they were teens. All they have left is each other and he's not going to just forget about the one person he has left."

"That's not smart," Sam points out. "If he were thinking, Daryl would get the hell out of dodge and run."

To this Samuel gives Sam a strange look.

"What?" Sam asks, confused by the response he's getting.

"I just would have thought you of all people would understand Daryl."

"How so?" Sam wonders, completely lost.

Samuel just huffs in disbelief and continues to look at Sam with a weary, strange look. "You have a brother, Sam. You said it yourself, Dean's been by your side your whole life… well, until now I guess. Aren't you two close?"

"More than that," Sam shrugs off the comment.

"So how do you not get that Daryl isn't ready to leave his brother behind?"

"I guess I just don't see why… shit!" Sam points out the window and halts mid-sentence. The shadowy figure stalking into the backyard can just be made out from the car. Instantly, the car doors are open and the two hunters are out, drawing their gun and forgetting the conversation completely.

Once they get halfway up the front yard they hear glass shattering loudly from the back of the house. Not wasting another second, Sam sprints to the front door and slams his foot into it, bursting it open. Samuel follows and they run into the living room of Merle's house to find him passed out on the floor, Daryl hunched over him.

"Daryl!" Sam booms out and tightens his trigger finger.

When Daryl looks over to the hunters his eyes are pale and his teeth are sharp and feral looking. He appears ready to launch.

"Daryl, back up!" Sam tries again but in return he just gets a growl of protective fear. Daryl stands between his brother and the hunters, trying to keep him from harm.

"We know you care about your brother," Samuel tries to reason as he lowers his gun. No need for both of them to have weapons on the werewolf if they want to talk him away from his brother. "We do. The best thing you can do is leave him alone."

Daryl growls harder, angered by the remark. He takes a stance that concerns both hunters. Clearly his only aim is to keep them away.

"You can't turn him," the elder hunter tries again. "You'll ruin his life."

The groan heard from the floor lets the group know Merle is coming to. After the blow to the head he took, the blood dripping down from his hairline, he passed out but not for long. He rolls onto his side and looks up towards the source of the commotion in the room.

"Daryl?" he asks, seeing what he thinks is his brother next to him.

"You want that for him?" Samuel keeps pushing now that Merle is waking. He needs to get the werewolf away from Merle so they can take care of him without a familial audience. "To be what you are?"

"Shit, Daryl?" Merle calls up, his head killing him and making it hard to think straight. He gets a clear view of Daryl for the first time when his little brother looks down at him, teeth and all, and Merle gasps. "Shit no. Daryl what the hell?"

For the first time Daryl calms. He puts his teeth away and his posture slumps a little.

"I know you don't want to hurt him, Daryl," Samuel continues. "Just leave Merle be, let him have a life."

The werewolf takes a step towards Merle, his brother, and it's the last thing he does.

Bang.

"No!" Merle calls out from the floor when he watches Daryl's body drop into a heap next to him.

* * *

Once they were a solid thirty feet back into the woods behind the motel, using an old worn path to get there, Dean spots it. When it comes to a few things in life, he's always had a sixth sense. He could figure out a case on a hunch, tell if a diner had a worthwhile cheeseburger or not just by looking at it, and when it came to anything related to sex… well, he could just spot a damn good time without thinking about it.

Walking up to the thick-trunked old oak a few feet off the beaten path, Lizzy watches as Dean drops the comforter onto the grass and weeds at his feet before pressing a hand into the bark. She waits as he looks it over with a smile.

"What are you doing?" she grins out with his actions.

"Looking at one lucky ass tree," he smirks when he turns to face her. With a dark flash of his green eyes he reaches for her and pulls her in sharply. He grasps her upper arms and pushes her back against the tree trunk. Looking her over, he grins deviously. "Oh yeah… I remember this now."

"So do I," Lizzy says with an arched eyebrow as she hooks her fingers into his belt and tugs with both hands, his hips flush against hers. Biting her bottom lip, she peers up at him and watches the need creep across his expression. "I remember we went crazy," she recalls, already opening his belt buckle. "I felt like I had never needed you more than right then and there."

Dean huffs a laugh as he presses his entire body to hers, closing any amount of space between them and kissing her hard and fast.  He too very clearly remembers that night.  Five days on the road, someone else always around, they just couldn’t figure out how to slip away within their new situation.  Once Sam was well into his current research that fifth night, Dean thought he was slick by asking Lizzy if she wanted a soda from the machine.  She said sure, he said come with to pick one out, and the second they got out of the motel door he was off, running for the Kentucky woods out back as he dragged her by the hand behind him.  Barely a few feet in, he threw her against the nearest tree and attacked.

As Lizzy kisses him right back, her hands now working on his jeans just as they had that night, she falls right into the game. 

“Mm, and I also remember telling you how much I needed it,” Lizzy tells him as she nips at his bottom lip.  “Needed you to fuck me hard.”

Dean groans as he runs his fingers into her hair and pulls her into another harsh kiss, their pace quick and desperate much like it was years ago.  Lizzy trails her fingertips across his skin at the top of his jeans.  “I need it now too.”

“Uh, L,” Dean moan out with her words as he once more lifts her shirt over her head.  “You make me fucking crazy, you know that?”

She laughs something free and lustful, loving that she can still turn him into a heaping pile of desire just like when she was a few years younger, a few scars less, and a whole lot more naïve and bright eyed.  Through it all, through the constant barrage of stress and sadness and horror, he still sees her the same way as he did when they met; the hot girl holy grail that caught his attention the second he first looked at her.  From that moment on he _had_ to have her and not just for a while… he had to have her for good.

He kisses just below her ear before telling her, “You make me even crazier now than you did back then.”

“Ah,” she hisses as he grabs onto her ass and pushes his hips once more into her, making sure she feels how much she’s turning him on by just being herself.  “Guess I do.”

“You have no idea,” Dean tells her with true honesty, the kind of thing he usually avoids at all cost.  “Every fucking day I swear I want to get inside you more than I did the day before.”

“Dude, you’re like, thirty,” Lizzy scoffs warmly.  “Aren’t you supposed to be calming down and becoming less of a horny teenager in your old age or something?”

“That’ll never happen as long as you do what you do to me,” Dean tells her as he takes his turn at opening her jeans.  “I’ll always want you.  God, always.  You’re so fucking…”

“Perfect?” Lizzy challenges playfully.  The idea of perfection and what it means in their particular eyes always an interesting subject.

“That’s an angel crack, isn’t it?” Dean narrows his eyes while suspiciously peering at her.  They actually were made for each other, an unfortunately fortunate thing to know, so in each other’s eyes they were supposed to be perfect.

“Might be,” she jests while pulling his white t-shirt over his head.  The warm air of the summer still present even long after the sun sets, making them comfortable and able to focus on just one another.  She tosses it aside onto the weeds before reaching to glide her hands over his torso in appreciation.  “At least those angel fucks knew what they were doing when they made you, huh?  Mm.”  She runs her tongue over his anti-possession tattoo before kissing it sweetly.  “Just my type.”  She winks.

“Yeah?” he asks playfully while ducking his head to kiss her neck at the same time as he begins lowering her pants.  Lizzy starts to toe out of her boots with the hint.

“Hell yeah,” Lizzy tells him honestly. 

“What about me is your type?” Dean asks through a grin as he drops to his knees and helps her out of her jeans, all the while aiming to stroke his ego a little.  Nothing wrong with that, right?

“Jesus, everything,” she answers with a smile, stepping out of her clothing.  “Those big green eyes… your lips!  Fuck, you know what those things do to me.”

“Vaguely aware,” he smirks a little.

“You know, there’s just something about a guy with a perfect face, a rock hard body, and a big ol’ dick that just makes a girl go all tingly.”  She sums it up for him and leaves it be.

“I’ll show you tingly,” he quips, his hand roaming her skin.

“You better!” she giggles as she’s just left in her bra and underwear in the middle of the New Hampshire forest.

Making a trail with his tongue across her flat stomach, her abs tightening as she giggles a bit more.  He knows she’s ticklish, having taken advantage of this knowledge in the past to exact revenge for name-calling or to get something out of her he was after.  Still, he couldn’t stop himself from doing it.  That little sexy laugh always went straight to his cock.

“Uh, get up here and fuck me already,” Lizzy laughs out while looking down to him.  “I remember your dick was already in my by now the first time around.”

“So impatient,” Dean shakes his head but smiles as he gets up from the grassy floor to stand in front of her again.  The second he is up Lizzy has his pants down his legs.  Kicking out of his boots he tries to get his legs free from his jeans before she went for his boxer briefs.  No such luck.

With her haste Dean gives up and lets her do the work.  His hands pressed to the tree just over her head, Lizzy lowers herself and quickly pulls the last of his clothing off.  She’s standing back up in no time flat, her hands unclasping her bra and tossing it away.

“Come on, baby,” Lizzy tells him, her eyes burning into his as she brings her arms around his neck.  “Fuck me like you did back then.”  She smiles that patented toothy grin that made him fall for her in the first place and Dean can’t help but smile wide right back, mirroring her excitement.

“Gladly,” he smirks as he hooks his arms under her thighs and lifts her up.  Wrapping her legs around his waist, Dean kisses her again while reaching between them.  He pulls her panties aside as he left them on in his rush of renewed impatience and slides into her all too easily.  He sighs loudly with the warmth of her surrounding him.  Ah, he loves that.  So perfect.  “Oh God yes.”

“Just as good as when you were a young man,” Lizzy jests slightly though the husk in her voice doesn’t help hide the already there pleasure she feels.

“Don’t take shots like that right now,” Dean says to her with utter annoyance as he tries to kiss her if only to stop the age jokes.  She may think it’s funny but with the nearly five years between them it did sometimes get to him… all the time.

“Mm, but it’s ok Hot Shot.  I like older men,” Lizzy grins wide, teasing him just a little but doing her best to remind him that it’s all in fun.

“Seriously, L… stop,” Dean asks of her again, keeping still as he has her suspended off the ground and against the tree.  “You want me to lose it here?”

“No!” Lizzy laughs a bit as she protests.  “I love your age!  I love that you’re my older man!” she tries to recuperate with flattery to keep him hard and with her frame of mind.  “I would never change it, baby.  Never.  You’re perfect and sexy and if you don’t fuck me into this tree right now I will lose my Goddamned mind!”

“Ok, keep your pants on,” Dean jokes as he beings moving in and out of her, instantly getting a sigh of thanks from her in return.

“I’d rather keep ‘em off,” she says right as she smashes her lips against his and they were off.  As if no one said a joke they were back to where they were before, hot as hell for each other and ready.  Dean’s already moving fast into her, needing her more and more.  He worries about this pull to her sometimes.  As much as he’s always needed her, it gets worse every day.  Dean is drawn to her, desperate for her, and he knows that even when he reaches eighty if he can be so lucky he’ll still be turned on by her every second.  How will he handle having all that time to crave one person so strongly?

“Ah,” Lizzy complains under her breath between moans, the friction on her back making her unable to help it.

“You ok?” Dean asks her, his lips still touching hers.

“Yeah, just a little bark burn.  Nothing I can’t handle,” Lizzy answers before sliding her tongue against his, trying to keep him on task.  Yeah, the tree hurt a bit but she was still on her way to somewhere quite good and it feels like an even trade. 

Surprising her, Dean pulls her away from the tree, his arms still hooked around her thighs.  He takes a few steps back and turns around before kneeling onto the floor.  He lays her on her back onto the comforter he wisely brought as he didn’t have the heart to let her back get as messed up as it did last time.  He’s a big believer in living and learning.

“How’s that?” he asks her, kneeling between her legs and pulling out of her as he strips her panties off. 

“Better as long as you keep fucking me,” Lizzy says with a genuine smile as he pulls her ankles onto his shoulders.

“You know I will,” Dean returns with obviousness as he enters her again, this time with a loud and happy grunt. 

Immediately Lizzy reaches up and grasps the back of his neck with both hands and pulls him down, kissing him again.  She’s bent in half, Dean working hard into her just as she wanted, and with the rough bark gone Lizzy sighs her love for his planning ahead.  This is perfect.

It doesn’t take much longer for Lizzy to find what she was looking for.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck… yes!  Dean!” she cries out into the wooded night, not caring how loud she is, as she contracts around him and her nails dig into his back.  Dean watches her like he always does, and like always the sight alone of her finding that moment, that one fleeting thing that makes their fucked lives more than worth it, makes him follow right behind her.

“Fuck yeah,” Dean almost breathlessly says as he starts to come down.  Lizzy lowers her legs and wraps them around his waist, her arms circling his neck. 

“Good idea, Hot Shot,” she nearly purrs in her afterglow as she kisses him, this time much slower and languidly than before. 

“Thanks,” he huffs back before kissing her once more, the two of them taking the time to just plain make out as they enjoy their quiet solitude.

“Oh sweet!” they hear a younger male voice cheer from a couple dozen feet away and their eyes are instantly snapping towards the sound. 

Walking towards them is a group of young men, no more than eighteen in age, and it’s obvious that they’ve been spotted.

Thinking quick, Dean wraps them both up in the comforter as best he can, their position still interlocked and very naked underneath but at least they aren’t completely exposed.

“Seriously?” another teen asks them as they walk right up to Dean and Lizzy.  “You guys are banging in the woods?  That’s so awesome, dude!”

"Kid, if you want to know what it's like to drink a beer legally one day, I suggest you move on," Dean warns darkly.

"What are you gonna do about it old man?" the first teenager asks. "You gonna come up here and kick my ass while butt naked?"

"Don't tempt me," Dean grits right back in the embarrassing situation. And then the flash goes off and blinds them a bit. "What the fuck, kid!?"

"So putting this on Facebook," the kid glees as he looks down at his phone while posting the picture of the couple onto the social media site. "Man, what a fucking party!"

It's then that Lizzy spies the bottles of booze and the thirty-rack boxes of beer in the group of seven guys' hold as they use the dirt path to head deep into the woods. Now, Lizzy grew up in the Northeast and from her own high school experience she's well aware of what's going on.

"Alright, you had your fun boys," Lizzy tells then with a wink, trying to suck up to them and get them to be nice. "Get back to the boozing in the woods, huh?"

"Dude!" one kid shouts as he looks to Dean. "Your lady is kinda hot. Nice job, man."

"Thanks, now leave," Dean cringes, ready to pummel these youngsters for interrupting his good time. If only he wasn't wearing his birthday suit...

"Man, if you guys are this fun you should come to our party," the only smart and clearly kind member of the group suddenly says. "It's like a quarter mile up the path. We got a fire going, beruit…"

"Dude, you live in New England… it's fucking beer pong," Lizzy suddenly sparks up with utter annoyance, moving out from under Dean while still wrapped up in the blanket. "Get it right."

"Shit, how old are you, lady?" he responds with a laugh. "No one calls it that anymore. Beruit is what it is."

"Fuck off, no it isn't," she starts up the debate, forgetting her situation for a moment.

"What are you, some expert?"

"Damn straight. I rock at beer pong. I'd wreck all you little shits."

"Big talk… put your pride where your mouth is," the younger man tells her. "Prove it. Come and play."

"Done!" Lizzy lights up. "We'll be right behind you… just gotta, you know, get dressed."

"What the hell are you doing!?" Dean quietly asks with hushed fire, worried about her plan.

"Have a little fun, would you gramps?" she grins to him and he gets angry.

"Alright, you're on," the kid answers and herds the group off in the direction of the party. Once they're far enough gone, Lizzy stands up first.

"Awesome. This is gonna be so awesome," she glees as she starts gathering her clothes.

"What!? Are you fucked in the head!?" Dean asks as he mirrors her actions. "You can't go drink with high school kids!"

"Why the fuck not?" Lizzy has to wonder.

"Because they're underage high school kids, L!" Dean upsets at her ease.

"Oh who fucking cares?" she brushes off while stepping into her panties. "They're already drinking if we're there or not. And we break laws professionally. What's one more, huh?" The mischievous grin on her face as she looks to him while dressing makes him calm a little.

"I just don't think it's a good idea," he explains. "What if cops show up, huh? We look like the asses there. We will look like we supplied them."

"But we didn't," she rebuts. "And there's no proof. Plus, you're a fucking hunter. You know what to do when the police show up."

Dean stares at her a bit waiting for an answer.

"You run, dumb-dumb," she answers his obvious silent questioning while buttoning her jeans. "Come on, let's go."

* * *

"What the hell, Sam!?" Samuel angrily addresses as he yanks the larger hunter by his elbow while they head for Sam's Charger parked out front of Merle's house.

"What?" Sam asks, completely clueless confusion in his tone as he shrugs back his arm. He stands tall while staring at his grandfather, both with dress shirts dirt-stained and sleeves rolled up.

"What were you thinking!?" Samuel hushes his tone a bit as after the night Merle just had he doesn't need the added disturbance of the two hunters who killed his brother fighting on his front lawn as the sun comes up.

Sam just shakes his head a bit and keeps the baffled expression on his face. "I did my job…"

"That was Merle's brother!" Samuel's exasperated tone doesn't cool off. "His brother, Sam. You shot Daryl right in front of him."

"That wasn't Daryl anymore," Sam argues right back, still missing the depth of the issue at hand.

"It was to Merle!" Samuel nearly shouts before looking away from Sam in disgust so that he can calm a bit. "Daryl wasn't just some werewolf to Merle. He was still just Daryl, his little brother, and he was in trouble. Jesus, Sam… you just wasted him in front of…. Has discretion gone completely out the window since I've been gone?"

"Discretion?" Sam asks with disbelief. "That was a monster. It was going to hurt, kill, or  _turn_  Merle if I didn't stop it."

Samuel closes his eyes and counts to three. "We are supposed to help people. That is what we do… it's  _why_  we do what we do. All we had to do is get Daryl outside, or in another room even before we blew him away. This was unnecessary."

Sam thinks it over but still fails to find his flaw in all this. Merle wanted to help his brother. The only way to help was to kill him. Sam killed him. Black and white.

"Well, it's done now," Sam says, his face back to the practically blank expression he's usually at. "Daryl is salted, burned, and buried. No use in dwelling, right?"

Sam claps Samuel on the shoulder and heads for the driver's side of the car, leaving Samuel a bit flustered. Is this how John raised his kids to hunt? What a cold, heartless son of a bitch.

The car engine starts and Samuel takes his cue and gets in. He doesn't know Sam all that well but from what he's seen so far he'd better hop in before the kid leaves him there.

"Want me to drop you at your car?" Sam asks once the older hunter is in the passenger seat.

"Ah, sure," Samuel responds after a pause to process everything. "Hey, um… I gotta know. Are you gonna just run around all by yourself hunting?" It's a thought that terrifies him. Sam without the guidance that he most likely used to get from his older brother would be bad. He seems to need a partner.

"That's the plan," Sam nods, already itching to jump onto something else soon. Maybe he'll keep his room in town and research tonight, head out tomorrow once he finds something.

"You know, I got a set up in the works," Samuel starts to extend the courtesy.

"Where at?"

"Found a nice, rundown old factory in Lansing," he begins to explain. "Got a crew moving in there now."

"A crew?" Sam wonders aloud, his interest finally piqued by something Samuel says.

"More like a clan… a family," Samuel keeps the details close to his chest for now. He needs more time to consider this grandson of his before letting him into everything. "I'm headed there next to help set up shop."

"Interesting…" Sam trails off, thinking how convenient and essential a headquarters could be.

"I'm worried about you Sam."

"Me? Why?"

"I'm worried about you being alone, without your partner. I'm worried you'll get in trouble with no one to bail you out. If you need anything, or need some backup… you call me right away. I may have been gone a while but I still know more than your average bear."

Considering it, Sam agrees. He doesn't have Dean as much as it'd help to have him around so aid when he needs it is an unbeatable offer. "Would be good to have a go to man… besides the one I already have, ha."

"You have a guy on the inside?"

"Yeah, Bobby," Sam tells him. "Singer. He's good, knows everything about everything. Good to have when I'm in a tight corner."

Samuel scoffs at the idea. "He may know a lot but he don't know everything."

"Actually, he might." Sam doesn't say it in a defensive way. Not at all. It's just a fact. Bobby knows almost all there is to know.

"Yeah, well, when he comes up empty handed, you call me, Sam," Samuel says, his protective nature coming out. If anyone is going to help his grandson it'll be him. He's family. This Bobby guy isn't. Plus, with the task he has at hand with the shady deal he made, Sam would be helpful to have around. He's intense and damn good… even if he jumps ahead and has a lack of bedside manner.

"I'll probably take you up on that from time to time," Sam nods, liking the idea of having two go-to-guys. Couldn't hurt, right? It could only make him a more efficient and deadly hunter in the end.

"Son, I sure hope you do," Samuel adds on as he watches the scenery fly by, his stomach in knots over this kid and what he doesn't know to make of him.

They travel in a somewhat comfortable silence the rest of the way. When they get closer to Sam's motel, within view of where Samuel's van is parked, the elder starts to speak.

"So I know things have changed a lot since I've been, you know, dead," he says with an air of humor. "But I do have a cell phone. I'll give you my number and I'll take yours. I'll call you when the new place is set up and running."

"Ok," Sam answers, putting the car in park next to the old blue van. Once he turns off the engine he takes out his phone. "Shoot."

Samuel pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket and fumbles a bit with it. He looks lost. "Uh, I just got this thing…" he starts, hitting buttons and going through the menu with clearly lost efforts. "Don't really remember my number." He huffs an embarrassed laugh and Sam just full out smiles.

Sam reaches over and takes the phone out of the older man's hand. He immediately dials his own cell number into it and presses send. He then saves his own info into Samuel phone before handing it back.

"Done," Sam smirks slickly. "I'm in your contacts."

"My contacts?" Samuel wonders with utter bafflement.

"Yeah… uh, your address book. It's called your contacts."

"Well I'll be damned," he says as he pockets the piece of technology he's quickly beginning to hate.

"You'll get used to it," Sam patronizes as he gets out of the car, Samuel following him.

"Well, alright," Samuel says, walking around the car to stand in front of his newfound family. "It was good meeting you, Sam."

"You too, Samuel," he returns pleasantries, a fake smile in place as he extends his hand formally.

They shake hands, both still slightly weary of the other recently resurrected man.

"I'll see you around," Samuel says as he heads for his van.

Sam watches and a woman standing across the street just within eyeshot wearing an insanely short skirt and fake fur vest catches his eye. Having been around the country, to every seedy and shady area and street of the entire lower forty-eight, he knows a hooker when he sees one.

"Yeah," Sam absently answers, still eyeing the woman as Samuel starts up the van. Once he drives away and is out of sight, Sam watches the girl closely. She looks to be in her mid-twenties. She's smart too. Her skirt is short for a reason. Her legs a long and perfect and when you sell your body you have to display the best parts well. Also, she isn't stupid. She has a small purse hanging from her shoulder, one that's the perfect size to conceal a small handgun… a lower caliber revolver or maybe a compact semi-auto for the asshole that want more than sex. And she keeps in a well-lit area by a section of town holding many motels. Good business to be had around there.

Pretty good looking, can probably handle herself, not an airhead…

Bingo.

Before he knows it he's walking in her direction. He has all night to find another hunt but with the rate monsters are popping up these days it won't take too long to find something. He can do it in the morning… right after he gets his hard earned money's worth out of the not so bad looking prostitute. She looks dirty enough to be into some crazy shit.

"Good evening," Sam smiles wide, doing his best to look warm and nonthreatening even though he knows how hard this can be with his size.

The girl turns to look at him, her head tilting upward once he's next to her.

"Well aren't you just a tall drink of water," he says to him with a little bit of appreciation mixed with some hesitation as she scans him over.

"You looked bored so I thought I'd come say hi," Sam tells her, the fake smile in place letting her know he's partially lying. Really he couldn't care how bored she was. He'll make sure she has plenty to do in a few minutes.

"So  _that's_  why you came over here," she sarcastically remarks with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Kinda," he answers back. "You know, I'm staying right over there, at the Weary Traveler, and thought you might want to come back to my room with me and… get to know me better." He flashes his dimples, having realized a while back how absolutely useful they are, and her curiosity looks piqued.

"Get to know you better?" she echoes in question.

"Yeah," Sam says, looking her head to toe and back. "Get to know me better. I can be a really fun guy."

"I'm sure you are," she laughs a bit. "Look, you know what I am and I know what you want. You want full service it's two-hundred. You do look like a man who's looking for full service."

"Oh do I?"

She licks her lips. "Definitely."

"What's your name?" Sam asks.

"I go by Cherry."

Sam huffs a laugh at her ridiculously clichéd street name.

"Alright, Cherry. You got yourself a deal."

She smiles wide at him and reaches for his hand. "And all right, big guy…" she starts and before Sam can react she's slapping a metal cuff around his wrist. "You're under arrest."

She moves to grab his other hand but Sam is quicker. He takes a couple large steps back after pushing her away.

"I don't think so," Sam half smiles to her.

"I do," she quickly responds, reaching into her purse to grab the gun Sam rightfully assumed she had in there. "Hands on your head."

Sighing, he listens. He puts his hands on his head, the still open cuff hanging from his left wrist, and starts to plan.

"On your knees," she directs loudly once more.

"I was hoping you'd be saying that in a different tone…"

"Shut up and get down!" she retries and this time Sam listens, knowing that at any minute her backup team will be there. No fucking way is he going down for something so small as looking for a quick easy fuck.

"Don't move," the officer directs as she steps closer to him. She then holds her wrist up to her mouth. "I got him. He's good to go." She speaks into whatever hidden listening device she has on her. Her back up is going to take it's time as she's given them the all clear. Perfect.

The undercover officer walks to him and once she's within a foot of Sam he reacts without a second though. With quick speed, Sam grabs the gun with his left hand and brings his right elbow down onto her forearms, making her lose her grip on the weapon. He then lifts his elbow with force and catches her in the jaw, her head reeling back and body falling. Once she's on the ground, knocked out, he runs. As the sirens are immediately heard just a block away he sprints to his car. He pulls the keys out of his pants pocket and unlocks it with the remote. He dives into the Charger, starts it up and squeals out of the lot and out of the town as fast as he can possibly drive, the metal handcuffs still jangling from his left wrist as he does.

So much for getting laid tonight. Fucking cops.

* * *

"Eat it, whores!" Lizzy shouts in loud celebration from the other end of the long folding table as she sinks her last shot. She throws her fists in the air in victory and smiles wide, turning to her beer pong partner and husband to high-five him.

"You guys suck at this!" Dean laughs loudly at the kids, finding that in the long run this was a great idea. At heart he and his wife really are just kids and have hung onto their fun personalities somehow. They may be shoved deep down under a lot of crap these days but they're there. They may have been buried deep but they're still there. Letting it out feels good.

"Fuck you old timers," one of the sore losers answers back as he picks up the red solo cup and chugs down its contents.

"Aw, easy honey, you might hurt our feelings," Lizzy patronizes right back without sincerity as she laughs at them. Dean pulls her in with an arm around her shoulder, his pride in her drinking game prowess showing clearly. She really did drink a lot in college he's now confirming.

"Who's next, bitches!?" Dean asks, lining up the two cups they had to drink in the last round and filling them.

"We are!" two girls tell them as the run from the campfire to the table in their short denim skirts and low cut tanks.

"Awesome, easy pickings," Lizzy elbows Dean with a grin as she assumes the girls to lack the skills to beat her and the shockingly good at pong Dean.

"Ha," he cheers as he assumes the same.

"Hi," one of the girls says to Dean only as she eyes him over. "What's your name?"

"I'm starting to think it's old man," Dean jests back as he's been called that several times since their winning streak began.

"Maybe it should be hot man," she winks back, obviously flirting with him.

"And what's your name? Jailbait?" Lizzy grins right back across the table with glee at how transparent the girl is.

"Easy, L," Dean warns her with a smirk.

"Oh, I'm good," she assures while turning to bring her arms around his waist. "I already nailed you down, you're not going anywhere." She presses up and kisses him hard in a purposeful display.

"Uh, you gonna play or what?" the second jean skirt asks and the kissing couple breaks up.

"Let's do it," Dean says, picking up a pong ball. "Prepare to be annihilated…" He lines up his shot but before he can take it he's interrupted.

"Alright, everyone stay where you are!"

The scene then explodes in panic. When the kids along with their hunter guests see the three police officers heading towards their group everyone scatters. High schoolers are very smartly fleeing in all directions to evade the officers.

"Come on!" Lizzy shouts to Dean and grabs his hand, heading off for the path they came down to get there, the one that takes them back to their motel.

They can hear shouts, police trying to stop some of the teens, and laughing. Soon enough they get out of the chaos and Dean and Lizzy are exiting out of the woods behind the motel. Lizzy, laughing hysterically while still running, shouts back to him, "Get out the key!"

Dean does so and quickly gets them into their room. He shuts the door behind them and leans against it as he looks over to her with wide eyes.

"Oh my God!" Lizzy bursts out through her laughter, holding her stomach while doubling over. "That was so awesome."

Dean cracks a smile. It really was too nuts.

"Holy shit," she nearly yells, taking deep breaths. "I haven't had that much fun since college!"

"Yeah, it was pretty fun," Dean finally admits as she starts to undress where she stands.

"Oh man," she sighs and kicks her boots off. "Ok. Fuck." She looks out the window at the lightening sky. "It's gonna be light soon. We should sleep."

"Yeah, I don't think we're gonna get the jump start we hoped for," Dean comments while doing the same and stripping down.

"No way. Fuck, I'm tired," Lizzy comments while flopping onto the bed and crawling in.

He watches her get settled and smiles. "This was a pretty damn good night."

"Mmhmm," she agrees through closed eyes, quickly succumbing to her tiredness once away from the commotion.

"I had  _actual_  fun," he says, lifting the sheets on his side and moving in next to her. "Fucking in the woods, drinking, beer pong… can't remember the last time I felt that… just… good."

"Sam would be proud of you," she says quietly as she turns into him and curls up into his side.

"Yeah," Dean agrees as his arm pulls her close like always. "You know, he probably would."

* * *

 


	21. September 21st (Part 4)

* * *

Walking into the newest no-tell motel, Sam drops his bags by the door and locks himself inside after driving straight through to the morning to be safe. He sits down on the one bed in the room, his back upright and alert, and has a moment of wonder. After all that, the hunt, the kill, the almost arrest, the fleeing… he should be tired. In fact, before his time in the box he'd be downright exhausted by now. But no such luck. He isn't even weary. Sam's as ready as ever for some action, which ever kind finds him first.

Though the thought has crossed his mind that he should sleep, he hasn't done so for a second since getting topside. He right now considers sleep a waste of time anyways. If he's sleeping he isn't hunting. At this point in his life the ability to be awake twenty-four hours a day is just plain perfect so instead of worry he embraces it.

And now, adrenaline still going even though he's a solid state away and home free from cops, Sam needs action.

He pulls out his cellphone and dials a very familiar number that he knows by heart. After several rings the line picks up.

"Yeah?" the roughed up, gruff voice answers.

"Bobby, you got anything?"

"What the hell… it's five in the mornin' you idjit!" he returns quickly after obviously looking at a clock.

"Monsters don't always sleep," Sam near scoffs at his reaction.

"But hunters do! Me being one of them…" Sam listens as he hears the old man moving about and trying to wake himself. "And he calls right when I'm talking to Tori Spelling…"

"What's that?" Sam questions the grumblings of the older hunter that he clearly thinks Sam didn't hear his remark.

"Nothing. What's with you Sam?"

"I'm looking for a new hunt. Just took care of the last one."

"So go to sleep. You've been nonstop for months. Take a damn breather or something, get some shut eye, maybe go talk to that brother of yours…"

"Nice try," Sam nearly laughs off.

"Not my finest," Bobby admits. "But I'm worried for you, kid."

"Why?" Sam wonders with incredulousness. He's never felt, or been, better than he is right now.

"You just seem… I don't know. Off. You just worry me." There's a quick pause as Sam can hear some shuffling of papers and a glassware clinking sound. Bobby fell asleep at his desk again. "Ah, I got a possible Nix problem cropping up in the Hudson River area of upstate New York."

"Nix? Seriously? Bobby, we haven't seen any of those since…"

"Since Oklahoma City three years ago, I know."

"Shit," Sam begins to think as he recalls the hunt with Lizzy and Lou and the water bitches. They were nasty and when there's one there's certainly going to be more.

"Rufus got wind from some buddies that a couple guys went missing. You should head over and help out sine you're the only hunter still in action that I know of that's seen these water siren things before."

"Yeah… um, don't Nixie usually stick around the Mediterranean, or just plain the Baltics?"

"Yeah, but they've shown up in the states before so… you know…. You want in?"

"Definitely," Sam answers back, already on his feet and grabbing his bags to leave once more.

"Alright, I'll call some people. In a few hours answer your phone."

"Sure thing." Sam hangs up without saying goodbye or thank you. He gets into his car and prepares for a nice fifteen hour ride.

* * *

"God I hope this works," Lizzy says under her breath as she sits Indian-style onto the pavement of the secluded and haunted area of Indian Hill Road. She has all she needs spread out in front of her, the spell work words written on a paper in her hand, and her fingers crossed that Owen will show up.

"We probably only got a little time before any cops notice the road's suddenly closed so I'd get going if I were you." Dean peers both ways down the road, no street lighting making it hard to see. They blocked off the area with some construction barrels to make sure no one came by and questioned them as they brought a ghost to fruition. Seemed like the right move.

"Ok," Lizzy says with a ready voice before she begins reading. "Anima quae deperdita. Revertere ad nos huc. Communicant inter se per magnum partitus et locutus est ad nos." She lights a match and drops it into the gold bowl of herbs. The flame lights and flashes quickly, the blue hue brightening the dark road, and as it dies down a bit the image of a pale little boy is standing in front of them a few feet away, not replaying his death but looking back and forth between Lizzy and Dean.

"No shit," Dean says under his breath. Lou's spell worked. He was ready for it not to since he's never seen a ghost on such a specific loop so easily snap out of it but the kid can clearly focus on both of them. Lou knew some serious shit.

"Owen?" Lizzy calmly and sweetly asks, knowing already that it's him after seeing his likeness in the family portrait Dean found online. She smiles kindly, hoping not to frighten the poor lost soul.

The boy looks around, the fear clear in his eyes. "Mom?"

"Oh, honey, it's alright," Lizzy assures him quickly, keeping her distance as she remains seated. "Your mom's not here right now but I want to help you find her if that's ok with you."

"I want my mom," he repeats, looking about ready to cry and both Lizzy and Dean melt.

"It's ok, hey," Dean calls to him as he crouches to the child's level while next to Lizzy. "Owen, you're good, bud. You just need to answer a couple questions for us so that we can help you out."

"I want to go home…"

"I know you do," Lizzy says with pain, her smile still on her face as she tries to keep him calm. "And we're here to help."

"You'll bring me home?" Owen wonders, his eyes hopeful through the sorrow and panic he obviously still feels.

"Yes," Lizzy promises. "If you can tell us a few things we can definitely bring you home."

"You think you can be tough and talk to us for a minute?" Dean keeps trying.

"Yes, sir," Owen quietly answers while looking at his feet.

"Sir? Owen, we're friends. You can call me Dean. This is Lizzy," he drops a hand on her shoulder as they both continue to warmly smile his way.

"You can call us by our names," Lizzy reinforces. "And friends help other friends, right?"

Owen just shyly nods.

"Kiddo, do you live on Farmvale Road?" Lizzy asks.

"Yes."

"A big house, white porch, tire swing in the back?" Dean asks for further proof.

He nods again.

"Good, you're being really helpful so far, Owen. Thank you so much," Lizzy keeps her demeanor calm and comforting. "This is a weird question but have any of your grandparents passed away?"

"My Grammie Bickle did," he tells them. "Last year."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Dean tells him. "Owen, where is Grammie Bickle buried?"

"By my house," he says, his voice growing mousy with the idea of his lost grandparent.

"Ok, you're doing so good," Lizzy smiles as she knows the rest of the family must be buried there. However the headstones are old, some crumbled, and they weren't able to identify the family plot earlier. "Where is her headstone?"

"In the back corner by the big strange tree." His lip quivers a bit.

"Owen, you ok?" Lizzy wonders, making sure that Owen is still as alright as he can be.

"I feel weird," he tells her in an unsteady voice before asking, "Am I dead?" His eyes wide and glassy with frightened sorrow and her heart just shatters. Lizzy grabs Dean's hand on her shoulder and squeezes it.

"Do you think you're dead?" Dean tries to gage the ghost and what he knows.

The child once more looks down at his own feet. "Yes."

Lizzy wipes her eyes and clears her tears. The tragic life this child has had doesn't need any more added sadness.

"Owen, I'm so sorry but honey… you're right," she tells him gently. "You died a long, long time ago."

Owen's eyes tear up and Dean can see how rapidly this whole moment is deteriorating.

"But it's ok because we want to put you to rest," Dean tells the little boy. "We want to put you somewhere peaceful and happy. And we want you to see your mom again."

The ghost looks up, the streaks on his cheeks shining in the moonlight. "Promise?"

"Oh baby, we promise," Lizzy says in her choked up voice.

"Thank you," his voice equally choked to find that he's going to get some help.

"You're very welcome. And like we said, we're your friends. We'll do anything to help you. It's gonna be ok."

Owen walks towards her, the walk quickly turning into a run, and his arms are out reaching for her. He wants a hug, he just wants reassurance.

"Owen wait!" Lizzy tries to stop him as he'd go right through her but he rushes to her, intent on finding some comfort but just as he reaches her Dean puts out the flame in the spell bowl by covering it with the alter cloth, making Owen disappear.

"Shit," Lizzy sighs with surprise, her face instantly buried in her hands once the little boy is gone. "Oh God." She keeps worrying now that she no longer has to hold it together for the ghost. "That poor kid, oh God. Dean. He's had it so awful."

"And we're gonna fix that," Dean tells her as he starts packing up their spell work. "If we get going now we can get him dug up well before sunrise and end this all now."

"Fuck," Lizzy worries aloud for him. "He just wanted some love, some contact and comfort… what he's been through…"

Dean pauses to look at her completely devastated state. This crushed her. She already just cares so much about the little kid that she's a wreck.

"And all he wanted was his mother. Dean… he misses her so much."

"It's ok," Dean tells her, a hand to her cheek. "Look at me."

Lizzy stares straight at him, her concern clear in her eyes.

"You need to pull it together. The sooner we get this done the sooner Owen is at peace. Don't fall apart on me now, badass. Owen either."

She nods and wipes her face again. A few deep breaths and she starts to gather herself.

"Alright," Dean says while taking his keys out of his pocket. He hands them over. "Go to the barrels by the car and move them out of the way. I'll clean this up and meet you there. Then we put Owen to rest."

"Ok." She smiles almost unrecognizably small and leans up onto her knees. She kisses him quickly in thanks before standing. "Thank you. Poor thing just broke my heart." With that she's rushing down the street as he asked her to.

He continues to glance at her as she heads for the car while he cleans up. Something about that moment, something about her pull to that kid, the way she talked to him and handled him… it's sticking with him. And for the first time in his life it's making him feel something he hasn't really ever felt before. He wants to see more of that from her. He wants her to be like that, to love like that, with her own.  _Their_  own.

And then Dean finds himself nearly shocked that the thought even came to him. Fuck. Kids? Is he feeling this way because he's actually ready for all that? To settle down and be that responsible? To have another life totally in his very overprotective, very messed up, and alcoholic hands?

No, not yet he thinks to himself as he picks everything up and begins swiftly walking back. It's not the time. He's still hurting with Sam's loss and, oh yeah… they're still hunting. They're doing it right now.

But still… a kid would be pretty fucking amazing, wouldn't it?

* * *

Sam walks into the tiny, one room motel lobby in East Whatthefuckever, New York and rings the desk bell. He then looks at his watch as he waits. If he drops his stuff here and then organizes his weapons pack he could meet up with Sal and Steve for a rundown before ten since he made such great time…

"Welcome."

Sam turns sharply to look at the source of the greeting. Behind the desk stands a girl, a young one, with a sweet smile on her face as she looks up to him. Her jean shorts, yellow Hollister t-shirt, and chestnut ponytail help possibly show her younger-than-him age.

"Thank you very much," Sam smiles wide, flashing his pearly whites as he looks her over shamelessly. She's tan with the summer sun and her legs are long and athletic. And best of all, she's petite; his favorite type.

"Checking in I assume?" She grins right back to him, oblivious to his ogling.

"Yes I am," Sam answers, dimples flying as he leans forward onto the counter with his elbows to get closer to her eye level. "And it's just me."

"Let me see what we have," she gladly tells him while looking through a clipboard of paperwork, Sam appreciating her decent rack that is just too perky to ignore through her tight t-shirt. "Looks like room three is all yours sir."

"Lucky me," Sam fakes a warm reply as he makes a decision right then and there. Sal and Steve can wait an hour. Maybe two.

She grabs a key with a number three key ring on it before passing across the sign in book to him. "Please sign in right there," she points to the page. "How would you like to pay for your stay?"

"Credit," Sam answers as he reaches for his wallet in his back pocket. "You work here regularly?"

"I do when my parents need me to cover. I'll be here for a few days while they're away visiting my brother at college so if you need anything just ask." Her sweet and innocent voice goes straight to his cock. She's just too much.

"Then I certainly came here at the right time, didn't I?" Sam slickly says while passing her his plastic.

"You're very sweet Mr.…" she pauses to read his name off the card. "P. Bateman."

"Please, call me Sam."

"Sam?" she asks with confusion as she swipes his card to store his payment into the system, the alias on it lost on her as she's too young to really know the classic horror movie. "Your first name  _doesn't_  start with a P?"

"It does, but I go by my middle name."

"Oh, ok. Well, Sam, you're all set," she grins and hands back his card. "You can head over whenever you're ready. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

If there was ever an opening…

"You know what, I'm not too sure where room three is," Sam starts. "You mind walking me over?"

"Well, it's really easy, just walk…"

"Would you walk with me? I swear I get lost walking across the street." He plays it slightly bashful and completely harmless. Looking at her softened expression he knows it's working.

"Sure," she concedes and walks around the front desk. He holds open the lobby door for her and she thanks him.

"So you know my name," Sam starts as he walks a little slower than usual to talk to her. "What's yours?"

"Lindsay," she answer back.

"It's very nice meeting you, Lindsay." Sam holds out his hand.

"Oh, uh, you too, Sam," she echoes with nervousness. She shakes his hand but he can feel her tension.

"Am I scaring you or something?" Sam asks her through a laugh.

"No, no… nothing like that." She keeps walking.

"Good, because I would never want to scare a beautiful girl like you," Sam starts to lay it on thick.

"Ah, ha… um..." She looks down and gets very awkward.

"I'm actually pretty glad that your parents are gone," Sam keeps going. "That just means I'll see more of you around here than them."

"Here's your room," she changes the subject when they arrive at his rented door. She wrings her hands as she waits for him to disappear inside.

"You know, I swear you have no idea how to take a compliment," Sam tells her lightly while unlocking his door. "Aren't you used to that? People saying that you're pretty? You must be."

"Well, not really," she admits.

Sam scoffs. "I don't believe that. A girl like you probably has a million guys banging down your door."

"No, I don't. Honestly," she blushes with his words.

"Really?" Sam pushes the door open and tosses his bag inside. He then turns and looks at her with a hand gasping either side of the doorframe. "Huh. I mean, I've been all across this country and you are just about the cutest girl I've seen in a long while. I have no idea what everyone else's problem is."

"That's nice of you. And the guys at school are kind of dumb anyways. Maybe I'm better off that they don't look my way."

"School!?" Sam spits out quickly and watches her nod her confirmation. He takes a deep breath while weighing his options here. "Lindsay, how old are you?"

"I'll be seventeen in two weeks," she tells him, her age showing through with her word choice.

Sixteen, huh? Hmm…. That is pretty young. And illegal. But she's cute. And tiny. And naïve Ah, fuck it. She's still totally doable.

"Well I thought you were at least nineteen. You're very mature for your age."

"Sam, you're a really nice guy. Thank you." She smiles that innocent smile again and Sam has the sudden urge to wipe that sweetness right off of her face.

"Why you're welcome," Sam answers before stepping closer to her. "So, it's Saturday night. What is it you have planned?"

"Just working," she answers, her fingers playing with her t-shirt hem. "Here."

"Would you like to take a break and come hang out with me for a bit?" Sam offers. "I would love the company and I'm not meeting with my friends for an hour or two."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Lindsay shifts on her feet with nerves.

"I think it is," Sam tells her, stepping closer again and taking her hand in his with slow caution. "I just like you, Lindsay. You're nice. And you said I was nice too."

She bites her bottom lip as she glances to the lobby across the lot before looking up to him. She's thinking about it.

"We could have fun for just a little bit and then you can go back to work. No one will ever know."

"I shouldn't…"

Just as she was about to turn him down Sam leans down and kisses her. He moves slow and hesitant, keeping the sincere façade in place for now. He then ends the moment by cupping her face.

"I really think you should."

* * *

An hour of silent digging, which is very slow going because it's way harder to dig a grave when one's been out of service and not eating properly for a while, and Dean suddenly feels another weird feeling that he's never really experienced before, at least not as a man. He has the urge to talk.

"You ok still?" He glances to her out of the corner of his eye as he pushes his shovel into the ground.

"I'm ok, Hot Shot," Lizzy assures as she hauls another shovelful of dirt out of the knee-deep hole.

"You sure?" he pries some more, pausing for a moment as he leans onto the handle of his shovel now stuck into the ground. "You were pretty fucked up back there for a minute."

"Yeah… I was," she says with obviousness as she wipes away the sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand. Digging in the summer sucks. "But it was a kid in trouble. What the hell did you expect… me to keep it together?"

"No," Dean huffs a laugh as he smiles. He expected her upset. "I just wanted to make sure." He looks away and picks up his shovel again but Lizzy hears the incomplete thought for what it is.

"And…" she peers over to him.

"And… what?"

"I felt like there was an and in there." She pauses and looks to him, knowing it's true.

" _And_  I was just seeing where your head's at. That's all," Dean brushes off with a shrug. He tries to go back to work but after one shovel of dirt he knows she's still waiting, staring at him. "What?"

"Just say it."

"Say what!?" He's getting annoyed now.

"Say whatever it is that's clearly pissing in your beer, dude." When Dean just stares at her with narrowed eyes she tries again. "You got something to say so just suck it up and say it. It's just me, anyways."

Dean sighs. Fucking Lizzy, always knowing him so well that it blows. Here goes nothing.

"You were really good with Owen when he showed up."

"Yeah…?" Lizzy's not grasping his point.

"You're always good with kids," he continues on. "Every time we ever had to help out a kid they… they, like, gravitate to you."

"You're not so different, I hate to tell you," she rebuts.

"I'm not as good as you, though."

"So… I'm good with kids, so what?" she sums up. "A lot of people are."

"Yeah but… it's more than that," Dean tries his hardest to explain. He still sucks at talking. It's just not natural to him like it is her.

"How so?" Lizzy wonders as she spears her tool into the ground, lets it go, and turns to look at him. She is taking him much more seriously now.

Dean shakes his head when words that make sense enough to explain how he's feeling fail to formulate. This is a big conversation to start.

"Try, Dean. Even if it doesn't make sense I'm sure I'll get it."

The way she smiles at him reassures him.

"I feel like… I like that version of you. The one where you're all warm and… just good with kids. I like seeing you like that. It's your best, I don't know, mode in life or whatever."

Lizzy smiles a little wider with his efforts and sweet words.

"You're just so…. I just really like seeing that side of you."

"You like seeing me help kids?" Lizzy tries to sum up.

"Yes. Exactly," Dean says with relief that he understands him.

Then Lizzy just stares at him. "Why?" Now it was her turn to shoot him the narrowed eyes.

"It's natural for you," Dean says like it's a question but it's definitely a statement. Or just plain fact. "You look like you're at home like that. You're at your best when you're helping kids. Always has been that way."

"I get them," she shrugs off, having said this many a times before to him.

"I know. You do… and I want to see more of that out of you." Whoa.

Lizzy just freezes, her heart pounding a little harder with the words he says. What he could be indicating is something she honestly wasn't prepared to hear. At least not yet.

"How so?" she cautiously pries, wanting to see if she's got his meaning.

"I think you know how so," Dean crosses his arms with discomfort. He wasn't ready to say all this when he started this conversation.

Lizzy continues to just wordlessly stare.

"We've… you know…" Dean starts quickly. "Talked about this before. It's nothing new…"

"Oh I know!" she interrupts when he starts to look flustered and uneasy. She doesn't want that for him and he tends to shut down when he feels even a little awkward. "We totally have. I just  _so_  wasn't ready for you to bring this up right now is all. Kinda took me off guard."

"You and me both," Dean grumbles, knowing the feeling hit him without warning. "I know this is probably not the time but it… when you were talking to Owen and being so good with him and then you just broke down because of how much you cared… it got me thinking."

Lizzy just nods, seeing the connection.

"I want that in my life. I want you to be happy, I want  _us_  to be happy. A family would make us both really happy. And that's what Sam wanted us to do."

Lizzy smiles with the last part of his statement, knowing how true it is.

"He did." Lizzy then steps to him and brings her arms around his middle, hugging him close as he wraps his arms around her too. "But it's too soon," she tells him. "After everything… I can't do that, not yet."

"Not sure I'd be any good for a kid right now either," Dean admits. His depression, his drinking, his broken status… no good.

"We just need time," she looks up to him. "Sam… and the regular life… it's all too fresh. We need more time than this."

"I agree," Dean tells her truthfully. "I just know that after tonight I'm sure that I want that. You'll be awesome and that's something I need to have in my life."

Lizzy smiles wide with his honesty. "I need that too."

Dean's arms tighten slightly with her statement. He's always known she wants to be a mom, always. He's just glad that after everything they are both still looking for that to complete their lives.

"How about this; we take a full year to figure it all out. I still need to heal as much as I can. And we need to have jobs and come to terms with certain things and just put ourselves into a whole new life. We also have to make sure that we're truly out…"

"Absolutely," Dean agrees. "I'm not bringing a kid into this world if there's gonna be evil bitches coming for him."

"Him, huh?" she asks, cocking an eyebrow up to her husband with his assumption.

"Or her," he brushes aside and tries to make up for the clear want one way or another.

"Let's hope it's a him when the time comes," Lizzy jokes. "You could never have a daughter."

"Why not!?" he takes offense.

"A million reasons why not!" she laughs. "Training bra's, periods, dates with boys who just want to…"

"Ok, no, stop," Dean says as he makes a face of disgust. "You are not allowed to have anything but a boy. It's settled."

"Hey, you're the one who'll determine that, buddy," Lizzy laughs at his new fear. "You're the sex picker… I'm just the incubator."

"Lovely," he sarcastically tells her of the way she explains things.

She laughs quietly for a second. "Look, right now it's fucking scary to think about and it's too damn much for us to handle. I think you know that."

"I do," Dean nods seriously down at her.

"But if next May, if we both have our shit together and can handle it… I say we go for it."

Looking at her with surprise, Dean's relieved at how well this conversation went over. And he's very happy to have her in the same place as he is mentally with this whole life-changing idea.

"I'm down if you're down," he backs away and holds a hand out to shake over the deal.

"Oh, I'm so down," Lizzy assures and shakes. "Mm, and I  _so_  look forward to the whole trying phase."

"Right?" Dean concurs excitedly as he grabs her ass real quick. Wanting to have a kid could be some serious fun considering what it takes to get there.

"Definitely," she shoots him a look of something wanting. "I kinda hope it takes a little while."

Dean just grins at her as he picks up his shovel again.

* * *

 


	22. September 21st (Part 5)

_**WARNING: Depictions of underage sex are in this chapter.  If that makes you uncomfortable please avoid this chapter.** _

* * *

 

"This is a bad idea," Lindsay blurts out when she pauses their kissing to speak her mind.

Sam just freezes for a moment and looks at her while there's still only an inch between them.

"Are you not having fun?" Sam questions in a low whisper, sweet smile plastered on his face as he lets his fingertips travel down the side of her neck.

"Um, I am… but I… um," she blushes and brings her hands to her face, covering it. "I haven't really done anything like this before."

Uh-oh.

"What's that mean?" he asks, his hands coming to her hips and pushing her back a step from where she stands between his knees. Sam stays seated on the edge of the bed in his motel room as he waits for an answer.

"Sam, I've never…  _you know_ ," Lindsay gives up halfway through with her bashfulness.

Sam thinks quickly. "Had sex." He finishes her statement very plainly. He's defaulting to his usual cold self with the surprising honesty she shares.

"No… not yet," she confirms for him while hiding behind her hands.

"Huh," Sam says with surprise. "I thought kids lost their virginity at, like, twelve these days."

"Ew," Lindsay groans with the idea. "No."

"So, I mean, you've…" Sam says in his normal voice as he's just so surprised by this turn of events that he forgets to use his caring tone. He pulls her hands away from her face with no warm intentions meant. "You've… done other things, right?" He stares at her blankly as he waits for her response.

"Well, no…"

"Wow!" he amazes. "No shit." He's shocked.

"Yeah, so I think I should go," she turns to leave and Sam's arm snaps out and catches her by the wrist, pulling her back to him.

"Lindsay, you don't have to be so freaked out. It's ok. I don't mind that you're new to this. Actually, it's kind of hot."

That wasn't a lie. He wants sex, she can give that to him and to top it all off he can pretty much do whatever he wants to her because she doesn't know better. He's  _got_  to make her stay.

"Please, I'm sure a guy like  _you_  can get any girl any time you want," she bushes off and looks to the floor.

"Well, right at this moment I want you," he tells her honestly while cupping her face and lifting it to look at him. "So let me have you."

The look in his eyes unnerves her just slightly but it's making her interested, very interested. And a guy that looks like him won't come her way again maybe ever. She meant it when she said no boys at school ever even look at her. She's invisible to them but somehow this very hot stranger is looking right at her. Maybe this is a dream or something.

As she stops and thinks Sam grows impatient and grabs her by the hips. He pulls her in swiftly until her body presses into his. She looks to him with wide eyes.

"Lindsay," Sam starts in a sure, confident, and controlling voice as his hands begin to roam her clothed body. "This is how it's gonna go. You're gonna spend some time with me in this room. I'm going to have sex with you because you want me to. You want to know what it's like and I know from the way you're looking at me that you want me to fuck you."

Shell shocked, Lindsay stays speechless. She can't form any kind of words. She's never heard anyone talk like that before nor has anyone ever read her mind so clearly. She knows it's wrong but she's just too fascinated to stop anything right now.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Sam sternly asks while starting straight at her, his hands moving over her back and down to grab her ass.

Lindsay nods a confirmation when her voice stays paralyzed.

"Then you need to say, 'Sam, I want you to fuck me'," he directs to her, ready to launch the minute she tells him to.

Her lips twitch with the need to be used but she's still is too overwhelmed.

"You'll be fine… in fact, I promise you'll like it," he tells her, his lips moving dangerously close to hers again. "I'll make you feel so good that you will  _never_ forget your first time."

He kisses her then, making sure she gets it as he slides his tongue into her mouth before pulling away again.

"You're not leaving, are you?" Sam questions her, his lips still touching hers.

"No," she answers.

"Then say it, Lindsay."

"Um, Sam… I want you to… fuck me."

The second the statement is uttered he grabs her, lifts her off the ground with far too much ease while he stands up and tosses her onto her back on the mattress.

"Good girl," Sam cheers her on as she looks up at him taking his shirt off.

“Oh my God,” she fears and awes at the same time when she gets a good look at him.  He’s all muscle, beautiful and perfect… and strong.  And probably powerful.  And definitely a man older than she is.  She’s suddenly extremely intimidated by her current company.

“Relax,” Sam tries again to help calm her nervous state as he crawls over her small form.  He takes a knee in each hand and swiftly pushes her legs apart.   He then presses his hips into hers and keeps her right where she is in his temporary bed.  “I’ve got you.”  It sounded sweet but the statement could have a totally different and more devious meaning.

“Oh,” Lindsay can barely get out as his hands slide up her sides, followed by her arms.  He reaches her wrists and brings them above her head, pinning them to the mattress.

Sam stares down at her for a second, his eyes cold and unexpressive as hers are just the opposite.  Her dark brown eyes are looking at him with shock, amazement, fear, nervousness, excitement… everything all at once.  He’s going to complete this hunt if it kills him.  He has his prey right where he wants it too. 

“You’re gonna feel so good,” Sam tells her, keeping her arms over her head with his left hand and feeling her again with his right.  He grasps hard onto her breast through her yellow t-shirt with a generic sunset printed on it as he tells her, “I can’t wait to get inside you.”

He lets his hand travel down her body and land on the button of her jean shorts.  He quickly pops them open and pulls down her zipper. 

“Sam?” Lindsay very hesitantly says but he pushes past it.

“You’re beautiful, Lindsay,” he says to her, just trying to make her calm down a bit as he starts to pull at her shorts.  He lets go of her wrists to tug them off all the way.  She has on very basic white cotton panties with tiny red hearts printed on them.  They are so perfectly sweet and innocent. 

“Thanks,” she very quietly responds as she watches him move.  She said she wanted this, and she does, but her anxiety is still claiming her.  Just twenty minutes ago she was greeting a quite handsome stranger to her family’s motel.  Now she’s lying under him as he undresses her.  How did that just happen?

“Touch me,” Sam tells her as he takes up her hands and places them on his chest.  “It’s ok.”

Her hands hand on the hard planes of his front and she inhales sharply.  What is with his guy?  He’s rock solid, huge, and he wants _her_!?  She very hesitantly begins sliding her hands over him, feeling something within her she’s yet to experience.  She’s pretty sure it’s lust.  Real lust.  Not in the that-boy-in-algebra-is-cute kind of way, but in the this-man-is-fucking-hot-and-I-want-him-to-make-me-a-woman kind of way.

“See, not so scary, right?”

“No,” Lindsay smiles up to him, her eyes darkening a bit as her nerves calm.

“Sit,” he tells her while pulling her arms up. 

He remains kneeling between her legs once she’s upright and he pulls her yellow t-shirt over her head.  The basic, white bra she has on frames her moderate yet firm and perky breasts quite perfectly.  Sam smiles a bit with carnal need before pushing her by the shoulders, her back falling onto the mattress again.  He leans down and licks a line between the valley of her cleavage, continuing up her collar bone, then the side of her neck, and stopping at her ear.  He rubs his hand down the cloth of her panties right between her legs and she jumps a bit.

“Relax,” he tells her, his hand continuing to massage her.  “You got to relax, Lindsay.”

She exhales hard when he keeps going, the feeling getting better by the second.  She calms when she realizes how good it feels to have Sam touching her like this.

“There you go,” Sam tells her, propping himself up with his free hand to watch her face.  He then pulls her panties aside and touches her directly, his index finger stroking her clit once. 

Lindsay closes her eyes and moans, goose bumps over her skin. 

Sam groans deep as he watches her, her young body squirming under him with just the simplest of touches.  The idea that he gets to take something of hers, something so meaningful and coveted and he got her to give it up… that’s one hell of a successful hunt. 

He doesn’t wait long before deciding to push her further. 

Sitting back on his heels Sam grabs her underwear and pulls, wasting very little time in getting them completely off.  Lindsay instantly brings her knees together in nervous shame.

“Take off your bra,” Sam directs as he reaches for the button on his own jeans. 

Lindsay’s eyes once more grow wide with the command, hoping he isn’t going to move this too fast, but she listens anyways.  She arches her back to make room for her hands and quickly unclasps her clothing.  Pulling her arms through the straps, she then hesitates before removing it completely.  She’s never been this expose in front of anyone before.

“Hey,” Sam nods down to her as she pauses.  “Thought I  told you to lose it.”

She bite her bottom lip and doesn’t move.

So Sam does the only thing he knows how to do… he does whatever he wants to.  He grabs the lingerie and pulls it away from her, leaving her bare and open to him.  A blush creeps over her skin instantly but he doesn’t give her time to worry too much.  Grasping her knees, Sam snap them open again and leans forward, his hips pressed to hers once more.  He’s only in his boxer briefs now, having shed the jeans he was wearing while she was taking off her bra, and his hardness presses into her, letting her know how much he wants her.

Sam moves right for her bare chest.  His mouth takes in one of her nipples quickly, his tongue swirling and making Lindsay gasp with the feeling.  Her hands land on his shoulders as she doesn’t know where else to put them in the moment with her inexperience and Sam squeezes a breast in each large hand.  Her tight, small young body is exactly what he needs right now, especially after having missed out on almost guaranteed sex the night before.  Fucking undercover cops.

Lindsay starts to actually moan now, gradually dropping her barriers with the pleasure she’s experiencing for the first time.  He’s quick and a little rough here and there, grabbing hard to her skin and making swift moves but still, she’s enthralled.  She can’t help but fall into it.

Taking a nipple in his teeth for a quick second, Sam grins devilishly when Lindsay yelps with the sudden sensation change.  She moans immediately after.

“You like it like that?” Sam asks her with glee to see her take something a little harsher.  “A little rough’s ok with you, sweetie?”

“Oh,” Lindsay smiles nervously.  “I don’t know.”

“Guess we’ll have to find out,” Sam responds, not much of an expression on his face, as he brings a hand to her neck.  He closes his fingers around her throat, keeping his grip light, and she doesn’t flinch nor does she look nervous.  For some reason this girl trusts him.  A new lesson is learned by Sam in the moment… youth is completely akin to naivety. 

Sitting back on his heels again, not moving from his place between her spread legs, Sam’s free hand once more heads lower on her body.  She shudders the second he touches her, his fingers slowly rubbing her clit and observing her.  He just needs to get her in the right place, turned on enough to make this work.  Right now, with her inexperience, he’s wondering if these two puzzle pieces will even be able to fit together. 

Slowly Sam slides just one finger into her.  Lindsay’s hips buck forward with the change, her voice a little louder than before.

“Fuck,” Sam admires for a second, his one finger working her over.  “Such a tight little pussy.”

Lindsay’s eyes look up at Sam as he works her over, everything so new and conflicting, but she continues to go with it.  What else can she do?  Leave?  What if he said no?  What if she didn’t _want_ to?

Sam adds another digit while still keeping his other hand around her neck and this time Lindsay grunts a little. 

“You really are a virgin, huh?” Sam asks, still a bit surprised to have found this girl. 

“Yes,” Lindsay answers as her brow starts to unwrinkle, the initial hint of pain subsiding.

“Starting to think you might not be able to handle me,” Sam somewhat worries aloud.  “Guess we’ll have to see….”

Her heart skips a beat as he lets go of her, using both hands to take off his boxer briefs. 

“Oh, ah,” Lindsay swallows hard when she sees him. Granted she’s never really seen a man naked before now but she’s fairly certain that his size should be a concern for her.  Sam moves in a little closer and she stops him.  “Wait.  Um… do you…”  She sighs with her still there shyness.

Sam pauses and narrows his eyes at her, waiting for her voice to properly work and say the question she’s clearly trying to ask. 

Lindsay rolls her eyes and blows out a breath.  “Condom?” she simply questions him.

“Uh, you’ve never done this before,” Sam explains his personal logic.  “Pretty sure you’re clean.”

“What about you, Sam?” Lindsay asks, her innocent eyes blinking twice as she lays there.

He forgot about that.  She’s probably worried about him and where he’s been.  When he thinks about it she probably should be. 

“Do you… um… have one?” she tries again as he sits thinking.

“Yeah,” his annoyed tone tells her as he gets up and walks to his duffle.  Basics of sex; it feels better without a condom.  It’s usually an easy choice based on that alone, only a worry when with women of the night or particularly slutty chicks.  Sadly, females aren’t stupid though.  If they ask he’d better be ready or else they might refuse.

Protective measure in place, Sam gets back on the bed and moves right back to his previous place.  Kneeling between her legs once more, he grasps her hip with one hand and himself with the other.

Knowing this wasn’t going to be easy for her, nor was it going to feel good at first, Sam chooses one way to deal with the situation.  He could have gone slow for her, he could have prepared her and let her know this may not be a picnic at first, but the logical thing in his head was to just do it and get it over with so he could have his fun sooner.

So Sam positions himself and in one quick move he pushes all the way inside of her.

And Lindsay instantly shouts out with the pain.

Her voice being too loud to keep questions and suspicions at bay, Sam quickly clamps a hand down over her mouth to muffle her reaction.  He keeps still inside of her as she deals with the assault and leans forward, his mouth next to her ear.

“You’re fine,” Sam assures her in his usual colder tone.  “Take a deep breath and calm down.  It’ll go away.  Give it time.”

When he looks at her face she has her eyes squeezed shut and a thin line of tears are leaking from both outer corners of her lids.  She takes deep breaths as she tries to overcome the initial shock and surprise she hadn’t been totally ready for.  Obviously she didn’t expect him to do that.  And obviously she didn’t expect the pain.

Sam takes the moment for a little selfish enjoyment.  There’s just something about conquering an opponent that just makes him feel… good?  He’s not sure.  Outwardly he feels excellent.  This girl is tighter than tight, just absolutely wrapping around him in a way he’s possibly not felt since he was a teen himself.  It’s pleasurable and that’s one sensation he knows well.  But what also feels fucking fantastic is the win.  He got her.  He got what he went after.  It may not be a monster this time but this hunt is a whole different kind of pursuit and he still got his prey.

Lindsay’s eyes open again, focusing up on the man above her once the burn starts to lessen, and sees his eyes.  They look… odd.  She can’t quite read them.  He was so sweet when they first talked but since then he’s been colder.  He does what he wants and he didn’t really help prepare her much for this moment.  She’s hurting, it’s true, but he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, as if he knows she’ll be ok. 

He takes his hand off of her mouth and braces an arm to either side of her body, his hands pressed to the mattress. 

“How’s it feel to be a big girl?” he slightly patronizes with a grin.

“Hurts a bit,” Lindsay tells him, her hands tentatively on the sides of his torso. 

“It was going to,” Sam tells her in the most basic way.  “You’ve never had sex and I’m... well… pretty big.  You’re taking it well, though.”

“Ah, thanks,” she answers back and bites her lower lip with strong worry.  The move makes Sam want her harder than just a moment before.

“But I want you to take more,” Sam tells her.  “You good?”

“Um,” Lindsay starts with nervousness on a whole new level.  She just wants to stay where they are.  She’s afraid of more.

“Yeah, you’re good,” Sam assures her without much care.

Leaning forward on his hands to either side of her, Sam pulls his hips back slowly before pressing back into her, moving with some caution as he watches the expression on her face.  Lindsay still looks concerned and in pain. 

“I told you to relax,” Sam tells her, his impatience growing. 

“Easier said than done,” Lindsay almost bites right back at him, her own patience being tested by him.  She is after all giving him something pretty important.  He could be a little nicer about it.

“Alright then,” Sam impatiently says, hooking an arm around her back and flipping their position.  He lies on the mattress looking up at her and Lindsay sits atop his hips, stilling herself with him inside of her.  “You’re a big girl now so you take over.”

Lindsay stares down at him for a moment, surprised by his sudden complete change in demeanor. 

“I… I don’t know…” she starts and sighs with frustration.

“Yes you do,” Sam rebuts her hesitant thought.  “You know what to do.  We’re animals, Lindsay.  Fucking is written in our DNA as a basic way to ensure we keep going as a species.  Just relax and go with it.”

His basic and barebones explanation he uses makes sense, even if it his bedside manner is a bit on the crude side, so she tries to compose herself.  After all, there _is_ a gorgeous man laid out beneath her, literally taking her virginity as she sits there.  He seems confident in her enough so she can totally do this… right? 

Pushing out a deep breath, her hands pressed to his firm chest, Lindsay bites her lower lip as she raises her body up before dropping back down onto him. 

The slightest of moans escapes her throat, letting Sam know she’s over that initial shock and ready to go.

“There you go,” he encourages, his hands coming behind his head as he lounges back to watch her. 

A slight smile on her lips at the positive nature he suddenly shows and Lindsay finally calms down and starts to feel actually comfortable.  She starts to move more. 

Very quickly Lindsay gets the hang of things, moving on top of him with much more confidence.

“Oh yeah,” Sam sighs as he closes his eyes, feeling the triumph of the moment.  “That’s so good, Lindsay.”

The smile on her face couldn’t be stopped if she tried.  She’s completely new to all of this yet she’s still able to please this guy.  She must be doing something right.

“I’m gonna take over again, ok?” Sam warns her as he’s ready to go all out on this young girl now that she’s more comfortable. 

“Ok,” she readily agrees and before she can blink he has his hands gripping her hips hard. 

Instantly Sam is pushing up into her with ferocity.  The pace he sets is lightning fast, his hands sure to leave bruises where each one of his fingertips digs into her skin.  His heels pressed to the mattress under him, he pistons into her and watches her face with fascination.

“Oh my God!” she nearly spits out with how intense he is with her.  She wasn’t prepared for the assault at all.  But wow does it feel good.  “Oh, oh, oh,” she chants over and over as he never stops, never pauses. 

“Shit,” Sam clenches his jaw as he sees her surprised face, her mouth in a permanent ‘o’ shape and her eyes squeezed shut.   Her hands clamp down on his forearms hard as she looks for stability while her body bounces up and down so rapidly that her voice comes out as if she were in a car driving down a bumpy road.

“Oh, oh my God.  Oh!”

Lindsay’s eye fly open with utter shock as she feels her body giving in completely to him.  The burst travels throughout her rapidly, making her shudder. 

“OH!  Oh God, yes…. Oh.” She starts to mutter nonsense when Sam stops once she rides the entire moment out.  Her eyes, heavily lidded, focus down on him while she shakes a bit and pants.

“Not bad, right?” Sam confidently smirks underneath her.

“No.  Wow,” she says within a huff, her back hunched and mind blown.  “That was…”

“Only the beginning,” Sam slyly finishes for her.  He lifts her off of him and pushes her to his side.  He then gets up to stand at the bottom of the mattress, pulls her by the legs until she’s right at the edge of the foot of the bed, and flips her over.  “If you liked that,” he starts, pulling her hips upward until she’s on all fours.  He then pushes back inside of her hard, making her buck forward and yelp out with it.  “You’re gonna love what else I plan to do to you.”

* * *

An hour later the door to Sam's motel room opens up.

"Guess I'll head back to work now," Lindsay sheepishly tells him, her face still flush and her ponytail in total disarray.

"You should probably do that," Sam agrees with her, looking around for people who might get suspicious of a girl her age leaving a man's room like this. "I have to head out anyways."

"Ok," Lindsay nods and shuffles her feet awkwardly. "Um, so… I guess, thanks?"

"You're thanking me?"

"Yeah. I just think that… most girls don't really have that kind of a first time."

"I doubt it," Sam confidently returns.

"And if you're gonna be around for a few days… you could always come find me again," she hints to him, her eyelashes batting in hopeful want.

"Yeah, uh, we'll see," Sam tells her truthfully as he doesn't know what his next few days will look like exactly. He never does. Plus, he got what he wanted.

"You know where I'll be if you need me," Lindsay says to him, trying again. Having just discovered sex and all its intense fun she would love to do it again.

"Uh huh," Sam responds with ease and shuts the door.

"Bye Sam…" she trails off as she walks back to the lobby office, this time walking away a little taller than she did to his room. Life looks a little different right now. Where Lindsay used to be afraid of boys now she finds a whole new appreciation for the species.

And at sixteen years old Lindsay realizes far too early just how much sex can change a person's life.

* * *

Silently both Lizzy and Dean enter the motel room around three in the morning. Covered in dirt and sweat after a long, hot and humid night of digging, burning, and then covering back up, they are ready for some sleep before they head back home at checkout time.

Together they undress, a trail of soil stained clothing marking its way from the front door to the bathroom tub. They turn on the shower, setting the heat on high despite the hot summer night, and take quiet turns under the spray to loosen their muscles which have become unaccustomed to such physical activities. Once grave and funk-free, they dry off, pop on just the essential underwear, and they crawl under the covers of their scratchy yet suddenly much more comfortable than they recalled from the night before bed.

As always, the second they get into bed they migrate to the middle of the mattress, Lizzy pressing up against Dean's side. He brings an arm around her, pulling her closer until she fits just as perfect as ever next to him, making him feel like his puzzle is complete.

"Did you mean it?" she questions while sleep starts to wash over her, an arm tightly wrapped around his middle.

"Hmm?" Dean questions, already nearly out.

"You're in for the May deadline?"

"Mmmhmm," he confirms in a drawn out agreement. "Definitely."

"Yeah?" she checks again, picking up her head to look at him. "You sure you wanna be my baby daddy?"

"So sure," he tells her, eyes still closed and head resting on his pillow.

She kisses his cheek before settling back in. "I'm gonna hold you to that."

"I triple dog dare you to."

She huffs a laugh. "I love you."

"You too, L."

She lays silently for a moment her mind considering their agreement and then speaks her final words of the night before falling asleep.

"We're naming him Sam."

* * *

"Don't fucking move," Sam strongly warns, his handgun aimed dead on the female creature's forehead.

"Don't threaten me sweetheart," the beautiful Nixie impatiently returns, her arm linked hard around the man she lured to the river's edge as she hides behind him.

"I'll threaten you all I want," Sam brushes off. "I've dealt with your kind before and I won. I can do it again."

"You come after me and this lovely specimen is as good as dead," she fairly warns, nodding to the man she's got in her grip.

"So kill him." Sam shrugs away the thought. He came to get the Nixie, not to put up with her bullshit. And he doesn't know this guy from a hole in the wall. Who cares? If he was dumb enough to fall for her tricks then screw him.

"What?" she asks with total confusion. "You'd let me kill him?"

"You'd never kill me, honey… would you?" the man under the Nixie's spell asks up to her with certainty.

"Shut up," she snaps at him.

"Ok," he listens obediently through his love for her and shuts his mouth. Her song is strong and it's dominating this man's life.

"You're a hunter," the Nixie logics, her eyes back onto Sam. "Your job is to save innocent people."

"Nope. My job is to go after pieces of shit like you," Sam explains to her. "And there's always collateral damage. I've learned you can't save 'em all."

She looks at him with horror, realizing she might not be the worst monster in the room.

"Why don't I make this easier for you," Sam says cockily as he pulls the trigger, shooting the man she had been using as a human shield right between the eyes. His body crumbles to the ground at her feet and the fear in her face is deep and obvious. "Now you got nothing."

Thinking quickly, she smiles. "Oh, I got something for  _you_ , tall, dark and handsome."

And she begins singing. Her voice floats eerily through the air, beautiful and tempting, but Sam just continues to stare at her with a blank expression. She grows worried, sings some more, but yet it has no effect on him.

"Like I said, you got nothing."

"Why… how did that not work?" the Nixie panics as she backs up from him. "You're not in love!"

"Not at all," Sam simply states.

"What's wrong with you!?"

"Just not too into water bitches I guess?" he calmly answers as he puts his gun back into the waist of his jeans and pulls a large, cloth bag from his back pocket. He takes out a roll of duct tape from the bag and takes a step forward while tearing off a strip. "So, you want to make this easy… or hard. I can happily handle both."

"You can't kill me!" she tells him with all-consuming fear. "My family will die. All of them. I 'm the first…."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam rolls his eyes. "You die they all die, I know. Dealt with your kind before, remember? But I'm not gonna kill you. You come with me, the others will be left alone."

Suspicious as hell, she narrows his eyes. "You swear? You'll leave the rest alone?"

"Yes," Sam answers, stepping up into her space and taping her mouth closed to avoid future problems with the rest of his hunting clan.

Walking the Nixie back out of the woods and to the waiting van, the bag over the top half of her body and her hands tied behind her back, Samuel pushes off the vehicle he'd been leaning on while waiting.

"That her?"

"Yeah, it's her," Sam confirms.

"Nice job, Sam," Christian commends while highly impressed as he and Samuel walk to the back of the van.

"Yeah… looks like you're a true Campbell through and through, huh?" Samuel comments as he opens the door to help Sam shove the monster in. "These girls can be tough to handle."

"She wasn't so bad." Sam smiles as he closes the door. "Where you taking her?"

Samuel's face goes serious. "To the compound. It's ready enough to handle her."

"What're you gonna do with her?" Sam asks, honest curiosity making him wonder.

"Ah, well… I have a theory that if you study the higher up of a monster species you can discover all kinds of information that'd be useful to hunters. Make hunting more efficient." He's lying his pants off and hoping Sam doesn't pick up on it. "I'm trying to take the craft into this century."

"Says the man who can't figure out his cell phone," Sam comments.

"Ha, yeah," Samuel brushes off quickly. "Thanks for calling, Sam." He holds out his hand and Sam shakes it. "It's been a real help. You're a hell of a hunter."

"Anytime," Sam answer.

"Where you off to next?" Christian wonders as they prepare to leave.

"Think I'm gonna stick around here. There's a whole bunch of Nixies now running around since we didn't kill the HBIC…"

"HBIC?" Samuel asks with total confusion.

"Head Bitch in Charge," Sam answers, using Dean's label for a big momma Nixie.

"Well alright. Good luck with that and you be careful," Samuel says, climbing into the driver's side. "We'll be in touch soon. Thanks again for the help."

Sam just nods and watches as the van drives off. He then gets back to his Charger and grabs a shovel from the trunk. He won't be hunting any more of the other Nix tonight. He'll be too busy burying the head bitch's collateral that is now lying dead on the bank of that river. He better move fast too. This is a nature reserve with paths. Can't have an early morning jogger passing by him for this one.

* * *

 

 


	23. September 27th

* * *

"I am so fucking happy to be home!" Lizzy shouts up the stairs when she walks through the front door of their apartment with annoyance. "Never taking another day shift for anyone again!"

It had been the most boring and dead afternoon bar shift she's had in a while and she barely made enough in tips to make it worth it. Fucking Johnny and his constant need for people to cover his shifts. Granted they needed the cash right now since Dean hadn't gotten a job yet but why she keeps saying yes to Johnny when she'd rather have the day off, especially  _today_ , she'll never know.

The second she turns around from shutting the door, she sees Dean sitting at the top of the stairs, grinning down at her with Lou's guitar in his hands.

"Hey," she greets with suspicion while looking up at him. Before she can even ask what the hell he's up to he starts playing a familiar tune. Her mouth instantly spreads into a wide grin as she stands shocked in the foyer.

"I met her at Bobby's down in old Sioux Falls," Dean starts to sing in his off key voice. "Where we drank whiskey shots and they taste just like Coca Cola, C-o-l-a Cola."

She takes a few steps forward until her feet hit the first step and she takes him in. His face looking down at the instrument in his hands, foot tapping to the beat he creates, and expression highly concentrated, she grins like an idiot. His voice is off as ever but she couldn't care less.

"She walked up to me and she stitched me back up. I asked her her name and with her dark brown eyes she said Lizzy. L-i-z-z-y, Lizzy. Li-li-li-li-Lizzy."

She begins laughing heartily at his version of the song. Only he would do something like this for her.

"Well I'm not the world's most lovey-dovey guy, but when she looks at me she always makes me sigh. Oh my Lizzy. Li-li-li-li-Lizzy. Well I'm not dumb but I can't understand why she stays with this always  _drunken_  man. Oh my Lizzy. Li-li-li-li-Lizzy. Li-li-li-li-Lizzy."

"This is nuts," Lizzy whispers to herself and laughs as she starts making her way up the staircase towards him, her cheeks already hurting from the smile she couldn't stop if she tried. With how awful life has been for him seeing this side of him, the side she remembers from when they first met, makes her worries about their future a lot lesser in strength.

"Well we drank El Sol and fucked all night on a blanket under the moonlight. She picked me up and sat me on her knee and said dear boy won't you come home with me."

Lizzy reaches the top floor and drops her purse immediately. She takes a seat behind him, legs to either side of his, hands on the sides of his waist, and chin on his shoulder as he continues to play.

"Well I'm not the world's most passionate guy but when I looked in her eyes well I just fell for my Lizzy. Li-li-li-li-Lizzy. Li-li-li-li-Lizzy."

Lizzy can't help but join in as she leans her head side to side with his playing.

"Lizzy. Li-li-li-li-Lizzy. Li-li-li-li-Lizzy."

"You're so awesome," Lizzy says between verses and Dean smiles quickly before focusing once more on the song. He isn't a guitar master at this point and he's already messed up a few cords here and there so he needs to pay attention before he screws up her gift.

"I pushed her away. I left for a year. I made a huge mistake. I begged down on my knees. Then I looked at her and she at me. Well Lizzy with me is how I want it to stay and I always want it to be that way with my Lizzy. Li-li-li-li-Lizzy. Demons will be pricks and angels will be dicks. It's a mixed up muddled up fuck up world except for Lizzy. Li-li-li-li-Lizzy."

She loses it at this point, laughing loudly and falling backwards onto the hardwood floor. She can't breathe she's laughing so hard but she does what she can to still listen to the song he's clearly worked quite hard on.

"Well I settled down just a few years ago and I've kissed way too many women before but Lizzy just smiled, took me by the hand and said dear boy I'm gonna make you my man."

"Did I ever!" Lizzy laughs as she gets back up and leans against his back, still laughing loudly.

"Well I 'm  _so_  the world's most masculine guy and she knows that it's true, that's why she's always mine, oh my Lizzy. Li-li-li-li-Lizzy. Li-li-li-li-Lizzy. Lizzy. Li-li-li-li-Lizzy. Li-li-li-li-Lizzy."

"That was the best thing I have ever heard in my fucking life!" Lizzy shouts as she moves in front of him. Dean quickly moves the guitar out from between them just in time for her to crash into him, knocking him over until his back hits the floor. She attacks him completely, kissing him over and over in thanks for the greatest gift anyone's ever given her. "When did you get so good?"

"Been practicing a lot when you're working," Dean brushes off but he knows she's impressed. He's gotten pretty damn good if he does say so himself. Not perfect by any means but pretty damn decent for being self-taught at thirty.

"Holy shit, you're, like, not that bad at all!" she laughs a bit with the shock.

"Well, I wanted to do this for you so I had some motivation."

"Dean, no one's ever done anything like that for me… never."

"Well, I'm glad you liked it so much. Happy birthday," Dean smiles up at her, actually feeling happy for the first time in longer than he can remember.

"Thank you, baby!" she grins back, her hands pressed against his chest as she lies atop him in their hallway, their legs hanging down the staircase. She kisses him again and this time realizes something wonderful. "Hey, you didn't drink today, did you?"

"Nope," Dean answers back. "How'd you know?"

"First time you haven't tasted like whiskey and beer in months," she tells him. "You got through the whole day?"

"Well, yeah."

"You did that for me?"

"Of course," Dean says with a hand on her cheek. "It's what you asked for, isn't it?"

Lizzy's heart swells in the moment. He made that song and he was able to get through the day without hiding in a bottle, all for her. She knows how hard that had to have been for him to do and she appreciates the gesture more than he'll ever know.

"Holy shit, I love you so much," she giddily laughs out before kissing him again.

"Love you too," Dean says against her lips as she continues to kiss him.

* * *

"How much longer?" Dean whines a bit from the passenger side of the Mustang as Lizzy drives them to an un-foretold location.

"Five minutes, you child," Lizzy laughs out. "And we'd be there by now if we hadn't had sex on the stairs and left on time."

"I plead not guilty to this one, your honor," Dean looks over at her. " _You_  attacked  _me_."

"Because you made me an awesome song. And it's my birthday. I can do what I want," Lizzy says to him with a smirk.

"So it's your fault we're late," Dean sums up for her as he looks around for clues as to where they're going.

"Nope."

"Yes it is."

"Nothing is my fault on my birthday, dumb-dumb."

"That's just fucking lovely…" Dean tells her sarcastically. When Lizzy turns down a road with a sign at the corner reading Massachusetts Animal Shelter, he panics a bit. "No."

"No what?" Lizzy asks with over the top innocence when she knows he's figured out where they're headed.

"No! Come on, L!"

"Would you take it down a notch?"

"I told you I  _don't_  want a dog."

"And I told you I've wanted one my whole life!" she rebuts right back. "Dogs are wonderful pets. They're loyal and loving and they are known to help their human counterparts through difficult times. They've done studies on it. We should totally have a dog."

"Fuck, I already told you how much I don't like pets," Dean continues on, hating what's happening. "They smell and they tear up your stuff and you have to pick up their shit."

"And they love unconditionally and they make you happy and they're awesome."

"Damn it," he complains again when she pulls into a space right by the shelter's front door.

"Look, I know you don't want this but this time I'm gonna veto your vote. It's the one thing I've always wanted in my life that I can actually make happen right now. If in one month you don't like the dog and you haven't totally fallen in love with it and need it in your life, then we can return it to the shelter."

Dean just glares at her and Lizzy holds her hand out to make the deal.

"One month, I promise." She looks to him with hope and he rolls his eyes.

"You better not be getting some puffy, fluffy, little frou-frou dog…"

"Nothing under fifty pounds," she adds the stipulation into the agreement.

"And it's not allowed in the Impala!" he warns very strongly. "Ever!"

"Never. Mustang only transportation for the dog."

"And if you let it in our bed…"

"No way, I swear!" She makes an X over her heart.

Closing his eyes with a sigh and tons of already running regret, Dean gives in and shakes her hand.

"Thank you, Hot Shot," Lizzy smiles genuinely as she leans over the center console and hugs him hard.

"You are gonna owe me so badly for this," Dean warns.

"And you know I will make it up to you," she says as she kisses him. "I always do. Come on!"

As she jumps out of the Mustang with full blown excitement, Dean washes a hand down his face. He hates this so much. He's going to be a dog guy? Fuck. But he hasn't seen Lizzy this excited in far too long. She knows he has a hard time saying no to her when she gets like that and he's fairly sure she's abusing that knowledge right now.

Once inside they are led to the kennel with the several dog cages. The room is loud, barking piercing his ears, and Dean's nervous about this to a whole new level.

"Oh my God," Lizzy coos as she nearly runs to a Golden Retriever. "Aren't you beautiful!?"

"Jesus," Dean bitches under his breath as he sees how into it she already is. He walks up next to where she's crouched, letting the dog lick her hand through the cage door, and reads the sign.

"Sparkles?" Dean asks with utter disgust before looking at the dog. "Your name is Sparkles? I'm sorry dude but that sucks."

"What a terrible name for such a pretty puppy," Lizzy comments as she focuses on the furry dog.

"Yeah, well, we're not getting a dog named Sparkles. Forget it."

"Poor guy," Lizzy comments as she stands up and looks around. She knows which battles to fight and this wasn't one of them. Plus he makes a good point. They will never own a dog named Sparkles. That's just wrong. "Well, if you're gonna be picky feel free to make a few suggestions then." She walks away and starts bending down to check out each and every inmate. When she reaches into a cage with a Yorkshire Terrier Dean makes a decision… he better help her out on this one. He will NOT be the owner of a fucking fashion dog.

So he begins milling around. He sees a Doberman which, he has to admit, is a pretty badass looking dog, but then again they kind of remind him of hellhounds in a creepy way so he moves on. There's a chocolate lab that's in its twilight and he thinks about taking him for a second. He won't last too long and they'll be dog free again in a couple years. But then Lizzy would be devastated and they'd have to get a new dog… shit! This is gonna be a never-ending loop! Dean realizes suddenly that he's fucked and this is how it'll always be for them from now on. He better make a choice that he can live with then.

He comes to the next cage and looks in… and stops. The multicolored, brindled, longer fur dog of medium size is looking right up at him. He's not jumping around or barking with the visitors like all the rest. He's just sitting on his hind legs and calmly looking right back up to him. The dog narrows his bright blue eyes at him before tilting his head as if to ask a question or to say he doesn't understand something... or maybe he's sizing up the man in front of him. The whole thing is familiar and oddly comforting.

"Hey, L!" Dean calls over to his wife as he never breaks eye contact with the odd dog. Lizzy comes to stand by his side and looks with him.

"Ooh, an Australian Sheppard!" she recognizes immediately as she kneels to the floor. The dog evaluates her for a moment, his eyes solely on her, before walking coolly forward to his cage door. Lizzy reaches her hand in through the bars and the dog sniffs her almost mathematically. "He's gorgeous. Look at those eyes."

"Yeah…" Dean trails off, still not really placing where he's seen them before. That's what it is. It's the damn thing's bright blue eyes that are bugging him. He looks to the sign on the cage. "He's two years old, a dude… named Casanova."

"What a weird name for a dog," Lizzy giggles a little as the dog warms up to her instantly, licking her hand and making a quiet noise of happiness.

"Cass," Dean says suddenly with odd, mixed feelings when it all clicks for him. "That'd be his nickname. Cass."

"Oh shit," Lizzy says with immediate recognition as she looks up to Dean. "Dude… he's totally Cass. The eyes, the weird way he just kinda stares at you…"

"Yeah, I know," he agrees, his hands on his hips through the weird moment. It's completely spot on though. This damn dog is seriously reminding him of his good friend that he hasn't seen in months.

"Oh you found Casanova!" the woman working the shelter that day comes and joins them. "I love that little guy. Such a sweet boy."

"He's something alright," Lizzy grins while the dog continues to check her out, her feelings already there for the animal.

"He really is," she agrees and she opens the cage for them to meet him. Instantly Casanova heads right for Lizzy, getting right up into her space and licking her face frantically.

"Aw, aren't you friendly!" Lizzy laughs as she pets him and he continues to show his already there affection for her.

"Doesn't really seem to understand the concept of personal space, does he?" Dean mentions knowingly to Lizzy and she shoots him a look to say she gets it.

"Yeah, usually he isn't so friendly," the shelter worker tells her. "It usually takes him a moment to warm up to people."

"Oh my God," Lizzy laughs as Casanova nearly pushes her over with his excitement. "I like you too, buddy, ha!"

"He's very calm for a Sheppard normally," the woman informs them as she watches the dog's happiness with a smile. "He'll just hang out, take the attention when you give it, but mostly he sits back and observes quietly. And he's a total sweetheart. He likes to help some of the elderly dogs around here, steer them in the right direction and nudge their over food to them, things like that."

"You could say he's a little angel, huh?" Dean jests and Lizzy swats his leg from the floor.

"He certainly is," the woman answers, not getting the joke between the two of them.

"What do you think!?" Lizzy asks up to Dean with wide eyes and a grin.

"I think you already made up your mind," Dean tells her, knowing how true it is with one look at her. She looks too happy to say no. That and the dog is somehow getting under his skin already. His curiosity is truly peaked and honestly, the dog reminds him of Castiel in a very good way. He does miss the best friend he's managed to find… well, ever. "Ah, damn it. We'll take 'em," Dean says to the woman, Lizzy squealing with excitement right after he does.

* * *

 


	24. October 3rd

* * *

One week into dog ownership and Dean hasn't quite warmed up to the whole thing just yet. Lizzy has been over the moon. She'll walk Cass several times a day, to the market for something they ran out of, to the park where the local kids play, anywhere really. They spend a lot of time together, from when he watches her cooking dinner from the kitchen doorway to him resting his chin in her lap as she watches TV and pets his head absentmindedly. They've clicked immediately.

Dean, not so much.

Cass doesn't seem to exactly know what to think of his other owner. Maybe that's because he can sense Dean's awkwardness around him. Dean's pretty sure that's what it is.

So now, as he sits with his beer while farting around on the internet, he peers over to Cass sitting in the doorway of the living room… staring straight at him. Dean tries to ignore the gaze at first but can't as it starts to annoy him.

"What?" he asks the dog and, as usual, Cass just tilts his head to the side as if to ask what he means. "Cass, dude, you gotta stop staring at me like that."

And he doesn't.

"Ok, then you gotta let me know what you want," Dean tries to reason with the animal as if he can understand him. "We live together now, man, so help me out here."

Cass turns around and heads out of the room.

"Weird ass dog," Dean comments to himself and gets back to where he was, looking for a new muffler for his baby. She's been getting a little loud lately and it's been a while since he's replaced it. He'd ask Bobby but sending one all that way seemed like a hassle. He was hoping to find a local junkyard with one. A few seconds later Cass is suddenly by his side, sitting quietly next to Dean on the floor.

"Ah," he says as he takes the leash out of the dog's mouth. Cass has already figured out there's no going outside without his leash and therefore when he wants to go out he brings it to whoever he thinks will be willing. "You're a smart little fucker, you know that?"

Cass just makes a quiet whine in response. Dean checks the time.

"Shit, L won't be back for over an hour. Alright, you win. Let's go."

A few minutes later and Dean's walking down the street with his dog that he never wanted. Cass leads him along a few feet ahead, knowing the streets already from his trips with Lizzy. Dean's starting to see that he's quite intelligent, or at least his memory is impressive.

When Cass heads for a tree on the edge of someone's front lawn and moves to relieve himself Dean realizes he forgot something crucial on this trip.

"Buddy, wait no…" but it was too late. "Aw man. Cass, dude, you can't just take a shit when I didn't bring a bag for that." He looks around hoping that no one is watching. "You're making me look bad on my first trip around the neighborhood."

When the dog is done with his business Dean hustles him down the street further while still searching around, thinking he might be home-free and no one saw that unfriendly move of his. He's been told by Lizzy that in the neighborhood they're in you have to pick up your animal's poop but he's new to all this and he forgot to prepare for the event.

A few minutes more and they come upon the local park. There's a little league field, a playground with kids crawling all over it, and park benches with mothers watching their children run around. Cass leads them over towards the strangers and yet again Dean starts to dislike the dog just a little more than he did before. He's not in the socializing mood.

Cass stops walking when he reaches a specific park bench and takes a seat next to one end. He then looks up at Dean, back to the bench, and back up to Dean to let him know he's supposed to sit also.

"Jesus, now you're telling me what to do?" Dean grumbles as he takes the seat.

Together they calmly sit, watching the scene in front of them and just taking in the serenity that Dean didn't expect to find there. He studies the children running around. A group of boys are playing what he used to call Gladiator back in his day. Two boys, one on each end of the row of monkey bars, make their way towards each other and once they meet in the middle they try to kick/wrestle the other off. God he used to love that game.

"New to the neighborhood?"

Dean turns to look at the woman on the bench next to him with a smile on her face. She's about his age, maybe a few years older, with wavy red hair. She has a big tote bag and a kid's backpack at her feet.

"Ah, yeah," Dean tells her. "Got here a few months ago."

"I'm Amanda," she tells him with a small wave of her hand.

"Dean."

"And I'm guessing you're Lizzy's husband?"

"Ah, yeah…" he answers with a questioning face.

"Met her a few days ago and I recognized Cass. He's a beautiful dog."

"Yeah?" Dean asks her, not sure he's ever found a dog actually beautiful.

"Yes," she laughs. "Lizzy told me you weren't much of a dog guy. Guess she was right."

Dean just looks oddly at her as he's not sure he likes strangers knowing things about him like this.

"I've talked to Lizzy here a couple times so far," Amanda tells him. "She's a really sweet girl."

"Yeah, she is isn't she?" Dean says, the pride clear in his demeanor.

"Yes. And she's good with Aiden too."

"Aiden?"

"My son," she answers pointing to him as he's going head first down the slide. "She was messing around on the diamond with a couple of the kids the other day, batting them grounders. And she's funny. Had them all laughing."

"Yeah, L's pretty awesome with kids," Dean informs her with a slight grin. "They're her kind of people."

"I can tell," Amanda answers back.

A silence falls between them for a moment as they watch the kids in the park play.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Dean looks back to Amanda.

"Sure."

"Uh, just how bad does it look if your dog does his business in someone's yard and you don't pick it up? Is that like a neighborhood sin or something?"

"Uh, well, it's frowned upon, I can tell you that." She grimaces a bit at him.

"Oh, ok. I was just wondering," he cuts off the conversation right there and looks away from her with a face, feeling guilty.

After rummaging through her tote Amanda hands over an empty plastic sandwich bag. "Here."

"Thanks," Dean smirks with a little embarrassment as he takes it and pockets it quickly.

"Not a problem."

Right then Cass walks in front of Dean, a big stick in his mouth as he looks up to his owner with big blue eyes.

"Looks like you forgot the tennis ball," Amanda laughs as she looks on.

"Tennis ball? L usually brings one?"

"Oh yeah. They play with it for a while before heading back usually," she explains the dog's normal routine.

"Would have been good of her to let me in on that one," Dean complains as he stands up. "It was nice meeting you, Amanda."

"You too, Dean. Have fun." She laughs a bit with her new acquaintance's chagrin.

Walking with Cass to the middle of the little league field, Dean leans down to unhook the leash from the dog's collar.

"Alright, listen here, dog. You run away and I'll hunt you down and kill you," Dean warns half-seriously. "Right after Lizzy kills me. Let's be civil, huh?"

The dog simply shows his affection with a quick lick of Dean's hand.

"Gross. Ok, give it," Dean instructs as he grabs the stick from Cass' jaw. He stands tall and tosses it a good forty feet away and immediately Cass is off. He flies over the grass, retrieves the stick, and is back by Dean's side so quickly it leaves the former hunter impressed.

"Holy shit," Dean says to the animal as he crouches down the take the stick again, ruffling the fur on his head is praise. "You're like, Wendigo fast, dude. That's awesome."

And from there is just got better. Dean tossed the stick, Cass brought it back, and a full hour passed while they were out on that diamond. He would toss for distance, throw the stick straight up in the air, even try and trick Cass now and then by fake throwing it, laughing when the dog would start to run and then get confused. He even got Cass to catch the stick mid-air a few times, the animal showing just how high it can actually jump and making Dean shocked with his abilities. In the end Dean was starting to think the pet wasn't half bad after all.

"We gotta head back," Dean announces after checking his watch. Lizzy will be home any second now. "C'mere Cass!" The dog obediently comes running and Dean clips the leash back onto Cass' collar. "Damn, you actually come when I call you… unlike your namesake. I know an angel that could learn a thing or two from you."

The dog just pants with his tongue out and looks at him. He looks almost as if he's smiling at Dean.

"Ok, now you're just trying too hard to be cute and it's fucking annoying…"

As they walk back home Dean realizes that Cass is walking right up next to him instead of a few feet ahead of him. He's not leading him anymore… he's walking  _with_  him instead. Shit, had they actually bonded?

On the way they pass a familiar tree and Dean does the right thing. He makes sure to pick up Cass' leavings that he'd abandoned there earlier.

" _This_  I will never get used to. Gross."

Once he stands up tall he sees a woman heading out of the house he's in front of as he Ziplocs the bag closed.

"Thanks for being a good neighbor!" she calls over to him as she comes his way. She has on very short shorts, a low cut pink tank top and matching tennis shoes. Her long hair is blond and her body is something straight out of Maxim. She's hot. Very hot. His former self would already be hitting on her kind of hot. "I hate when people don't pick up after their dogs."

"Oh, so do I," Dean concurs with lying emphasis, checking her out quickly as she makes her way over. He may be married but he ain't dead.

"You must be new," she says while extending a hand. "I'm Alona."

"Dean," he answers while shaking. "And I just moved here a few months ago."

"Where are you?"

"A few houses down," he points. "The blue one on the corner. I'm on the top floor."

"Ah, so we're close," she says as she crosses her arms, her breasts pushing together and her cleavage deepening. Dean knows very well when he's being hit on and that's exactly what's happening right now. If this had been years ago he'd already have invited her over to his place. Now, instead of fun, he sees trouble in this woman.

"Not far," he nods. "Though I gotta get going. My wife will be home soon."

The slight flash of disappoint makes its way across her face but she perks right back up again. "She must be one lucky lady then." She says this while giving him the once over.

"I'm pretty sure I'm the lucky one," Dean huffs awkwardly.

"Cute  _and_  modest, wow," Alona laughs and lightly puts her hand on his upper arm. With this Cass moves between the two of them and sits down, almost making sure there is a distance between the two of them like he could sense the threat of this woman. "Who's this!?"

Alona crouches down and immediately pets Cass.

"This is Cass."

"So gorgeous!"

"Yeah, he's not bad." Dean grows impatient. "Ah, so it was really nice meeting you, Alona but we're gonna get going now."

"Yeah, ok," she smiles bright with her perfect, white teeth as she stands. "It was  _really_  nice to meet you, Dean. I hope I'll be seeing you around."

Alona walks back into her house, hips swaying all the way, as Dean moves towards his place.

"Where were you when I was a single man, huh? You're a hot chick magnet," Dean whispers to Cass as they move away from Alona's house. "Hey, don't tell Lizzy about Mrs. Robinson, ok?" Cass just looks up at him for a second before continuing on, once more at his side instead of in front of him.

When Dean opens the front door he can immediately hear footsteps making their way to the top of the foyer stairs. He unleashes Cass quickly knowing that he loves to greet Lizzy in a way too excited manner every time she comes home.

"Cassie!" Lizzy calls down to the bottom of the stairs and the dog is off, running up the stairs and straight into her. Cass may be a calmer dog but when he sees Lizzy he lights right up every time. It's really the only time he gets super excited that Dean has seen.

"Hey," Dean calls up to her as he makes his way up.

"Hi Hot Shot," she says as Cass licks her face. "You took him for a walk?"

"Ah, yeah," he admits. "Took him to that park down the street… or really he took me."

"Oh yeah, you loves it there, don't you?" Lizzy gives Cass one last parting ruffle of the fur before she stands up and smiles at Dean. "Think I'm gonna make some dinner."

"Yes!" Dean cheers as his eyes roll back in his head with exaggeration. "That's my third favorite phrase in life right after 'want a beer?' and 'let's have sex'."

"You're so easy," Lizzy smirks while giving him a quick kiss on the lips before heading for the kitchen. "Want a beer?" She smirks knowingly.

"Why even ask?"

Dean sits in the living room watching TV with his beer as he can hear Lizzy cooking. 'The Bomber' is playing quietly from the kitchen as she works and he sighs. For the first time in months he's finding contentment in his new life. The whole time he was out with Cass he never once thought about Sam and the cage and misery. He didn't feel all that depressed and he certainly never shed a single tear. In fact… he felt kind of normal… bordering good even.

As if he knew he was being thought about, Cass moseys into the room and over to him. The dog sits on the floor next to where Dean's sitting on the couch and drops his chin on his knee, his blue eyes peering up to Dean.

"You don't want to watch L cooking?" Dean asks as that's what the dog does every time she makes dinner but the dog doesn't move, just stays put. Dean puts his hand on the dog's head. "Shit, you kinda like me now don't you?"

As if to answer, Cass turns his head to lick his hand just once before dropping his chin back onto Dean's knee.

"Ew," Dean wipes his hand on his jeans before replacing it. "Son of a bitch. I think I kinda like you too."

He sips his beer, hangs out with Cass while waiting for dinner, and just exists.

* * *

 


	25. October 11th

* * *

Parking his brand new, pristine 1955 Chevrolet Corvette into his driveway, Sam lets out a grateful sigh. Looking out to the suburban, two-story home with utter warmth and sanctuary he has one thought in mind; it's good to be home.

Sure it's a little later than usual but the case he's in the middle of is killing him. He knows that there's an answer to be had, a way to help his client out of the mess he's found himself in, but he just can't seem to find it. He will though. Sam knows the difference between his innocent assignments and his guilty ones. This current client of his is as innocent as the day he was born, Sam's sure of it.

Shaking his head to clear his still going work focus, he does his best to leave that part of himself outside. He hates bringing his work home with him. His house is supposed to remain his place away, where he isn't Lawyer Sam. He's a totally different Sam when he's done with his day and that's the way he wants it to remain.

Walking up to the front door a little smile plays across his lips. This is his favorite part of every day, his absolute favorite. Gripping the front door knob he huffs a quiet laugh in preparation before pulling it open.

"I'm home," he calls out to the rest of the house and shuts the door behind him. As he hangs his fedora onto the coatrack next to him he listens to the sound of small feet running his way. He barely has his coat off in time to for her to slam her small body into his legs.

"Daddy!" the little girl all but screeches when she bear-hugs his knees. Every day she sprints straight to him when he gets home, the skirt of whatever dress she has on that day flying behind her as she does. Sam happily bends down to pick her up.

"Hi, sweetie!" Family Sam grins wide as he pulls her in to hug him. With her small arms around his neck he sighs once more. Yup. The best damn part of his day. "How was your day, babycakes?"

"It was good, Daddy," the long, blonde-haired girl tells him as she looks to him with her hazel eyes. "I finished my book and Mrs. Hanning said she was proud of me because it was a fourth grader's book and I'm a first grader and I read it all by myself."

"That's great," Sam tells her, kissing her cheek as he has a flash of sheer pride in her. She's smart, very smart, bordering on scary smart at this point, and she's still so young.

"She even had me answer questions about it and I answered all of them right! She put a check mark on my reading chart!"

"Well, I'm proud of you. That's so good. You want to find a new one tonight since you finished the last one?"

"Auntie Lizzy said I should read James and the Giant Peach next when I asked her after school."

"That's a really good book. I love that one and Mommy has a copy already," Sam tells her. "We can put it with your school bag tonight and you can bring it to school tomorrow to show Mrs. Hanning what you want to read."

"Ok." She smiles back to him, one of her front teeth missing and the one next to it hanging at an odd angle. Sam grins, his cheeks ready to break. "How have you not lost that tooth yet?"

"I don't know," she shrugs back at him.

"I'm gonna pull it soon…"

"No, daddy! Don't!" She clamps a hand over her mouth to guard it.

She's been irrationally scared of Sam pulling out her teeth since she started losing them. He might tease her about it but he'd never actually do that to her.

"I won't. Don't worry," he says to her and kisses the back of her hand that's blocking her mouth. "Where's mommy?"

"She's right here," the woman grins to him as she comes into the foyer with an apron on over her dress, her pearls hanging around her neck and her hair neatly up. "Hi honey." She walks over to give him a peck on the lips which Sam happily returns, the spark he still feels for her making his heart full.

"Hi," Sam smiles right back, putting his daughter down. "Hey, you don't look as tired today. Was Dean actually good?"

"Surprisingly, yes," she nearly laughs in a thankful manner. "After ten months of crying and always being hungry and attention seeking every second of the day, the little guy is finally becoming less like his uncle and more like his wonder father." She leans up on her toes again and Sam meets her halfway, the kiss a little more serious this time.

"Good," Sam smiles wide to hear that his wife might actually have easier days ahead. Their son has been difficult from the day he was born but considering his namesake at least Sam wasn't all that surprised. The little guy's living up to it.

"Yes, definitely good," she returns before looking down at their daughter. "Go wash up, Mary. Dinner's ready."

With her blond hair flowing behind her, she rushes to the bathroom to wash her hands just as she was told.

"She tell you about the book?" his wife asks with a grin and an arched eyebrow.

"The second I walked through the door," Sam tells her as he drapes his arms around her shoulders.

"She was so excited to tell you. I bet you were just like that as a kid." She places her hands on his waist and angles her head straight up to look at him with the huge difference in their heights.

"Eh, she takes after you more," Sam replies. "Looking at her you wouldn't even know that she's fifty-percent me. She's like a mini Louise if you ask me."

"Good thing she picked the pretty one to look like then," Louise winks.

From upstairs the sound of a baby crying can be heard and with it Louise groans.

"Perfect timing as always," she forces a smile and starts to head for the stairs.

"No, no," Sam tells her, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the stairs. "I'll get Dean, you go do dinner."

"Thank you," she returns with a grateful smile. She hugs Sam quickly before leaving him for the kitchen. As Sam makes his way up the steps he can hear her call out to their daughter, "Mary Elizabeth, you better actually be washing your hands! Soap and all!"

Making his way up the staircase, the crying of his six month old son getting louder with every step, Sam revels in the sound. Maybe that's a little sadistic since the sound is one of sadness or discomfort, but still. That's his boy. That's his little man. Still sounds beautiful to him.

"Oh my goodness," Sam says in a lighthearted tone as he walks to the crib. "Buddy, hey." Peeking over the edge of the railing the baby looks straight up at him with big, watery, green eyes. "You have to stop fussing so much. You'll drive your mother crazy."

The second he has attention his son's face lights up with a bright smile.

"Wow, you really are like my brother, aren't you?" Sam says as he picks Dean up. "A charmer before you're even one." Once he has Dean perched on his hip he keeps talking to him. "And you make mommy nuts just like Uncle Dean always does. No wonder he calls you his favorite."

The baby smiles wide before pressing his face into Sam's shoulder. Sam laughs a bit at this because, as much of a man as he is, that was pretty damn cute.

"God, you're gonna be a handful aren't you?" Sam asks his son as he brings them both down the stairs and into the kitchen. When he walks in the table is set, Mary is sitting at her chair at the dinner table, and Louise is scooping heaping portions of food onto each plate.

"Seriously?" Louise asks as she sees her two boys walk into the room and she spies Dean quietly sitting on Sam's hip. "I swear he's never this calm for anyone else but you. So unfair."

"Aw, is that jealousy I hear?" Sam asks before looking to Dean. "Is mommy jealous that you like me better?"

Dean gurgles a little as he reaches up and touches Sam's mouth when he sees it moving. Sam blows a raspberry and makes the baby laugh.

"Mommy's jealous that she has to be the warden all day while daddy gets to be the fun guy who plays at night instead of do the dirty work," Louise says with a smile but her point is heard by Sam loud and clear.

"Well then, how about tonight you sit down and eat dinner while it's hot and I feed Dean?" Sam offers, knowing that as much as Louise keeps it traditional around the house that she must want the break.

"No, honey, you worked all day. I'm fine."

"Nope, too late," Sam says as he walks to the highchair and drops Dean down into it. "I'm feeding the brat." He slides the tray of the highchair into place before turning around. "What are we thinking today, cereal or cereal…" He freezes in place. "What the hell are you doing here!?"

When Sam turns around he sees the figure standing at the other end of the table.

"Hiya sport," the newcomer greets menacingly.

"Azazel," Sam says as he peers into the yellow eyes of the thing that nearly ruined his life. "You're dead."

"That's very true," the demon says to Sam. "But being a Lucifer loyalist, well, it has its perks." He laughs menacingly.

"Who is this?" Louise asks with shock, wide eyes looking at Sam for answers. "You know this man?"

"Oh you're husband and I go way back," Azazel winks to Louise.

"How did you get in here?" Louise has to wonder.

"So this is what you dream about, Sammy?" Azazel asks as he picks a green bean off of the plate at the head of the table meant for Sam. He takes a bite and chews. "A little Leave It to Beaver wonderland life complete with 1950's perfect little house wife and two darling little squirts? Where's the warrior that was supposed to lead the army of hell into glorious victory?"

"What are you talking about?" Louise asks with utter confusion before turning to her husband. "What is he talking about, Sam?"

"Little lady, why don't you let the men talk here for a moment," Azazel suggests as he kinetically flings her against the far wall of the kitchen.

"Mommy!" Mary screams with fear and she gets up to run to her mother, only to be flung against the wall along with her, pinned side by side.

"Let them go!" Sam demands in the booming voice he never uses around his family.

"Sam, what's going on?" Louise's fearful voice asks but instead of answer her Sam starts for Azazel.

"Freeze," the demon commands of Sam and his feet are glued in place to the floor mid-stride. He looks down at them when he can't move. "Hey Sam, do you know what today is?"

Sam looks up but Azazel isn't where he was standing one moment ago. Instead he is standing next to Dean in his highchair.

"Get away from my son," Sam grits out, his overprotective nature flaring up wildly.

"It's little Deanie's six month birthday!" Azazel cheers as he looks at the little boy. "You're getting old, aren't you kiddo?"

"No!" Sam panics. "No, Azazel! No way!"

"You see, since you weren't up for it, I figured maybe the second generation would be," he smiles wide while slicing his wrist open with his own thumbnail. "This little one looks like a true leader to me."

"What is going on!?" Louise shouts with her fear and need for answers. The loud tone in her mother's voice makes Mary start to cry.

"Mom, I'm gonna ask that you butt out of this one," Azazel recommends and snaps his fingers. The second he does, both Louise and Mary start their slow accent up the wall of the kitchen towards the ceiling.

As he watches the two women in his life head for their certain horrible death, Sam panics.

"No, no, no, no, no! Stop this!" he shouts helplessly as he watches Azazel drip blood into little Dean's mouth, damning him in the same way the demon did him when he was six months old. "You fucking monster!"

"Oh relax," Yellow Eyes tells him just as runs a soothing hand over Dean's still partially bald head. "Dean here will be just fine."

Sam looks to his son just in time to see his eyes flash yellow. Immediately after the flames start up and when he looks to the ceiling he sees his wife and his little girl burning up.

"NO!" Sam bellows from his gut with the sights surrounding him. His family disappearing, turning evil around him, he can't handle it. His eyes slam shut as he hears his family cry for help, desperate and in pain. "No! This can't happen!"

"You're right," he hears Lucifer say as the noisy background quiets to near silence. "It totally can't."

When Sam's lids fly open again he sees he's once more surrounded by four stone walls with his torture master standing casually by. His feet aren't stuck to the floor and the scene around him is gone completely.

"Pretty lame, Sam," Lucifer disappointedly tells him. " _That's_  what your perfect little world would be?"

Taking several deep breaths to catch up to the shock he's just been put through, Sam ignores Lucifer as he talks on and puts down his personal idea of utopia.

"I mean,  _come on_!" the devil continues. "You're a fucking mess, man. You want to go bring your dead girlfriend into the 50's, a time of male chauvinism and impossible domestic perfection, pop out a couple rugrats and live like any other normal, boring douche bag? I expected so much more from you, Sam."

Still ignoring Lucifer, Sam lets himself sink to the cold floor and ball up, eyes squeezing shut as his brain torments him harder than Lucifer and his ever-changing ability to fuck with reality ever could. He wanted that so badly, he wanted the perfect life of dinners and jobs and kids and wives who love him and work hard to keep their family happy. He wants that so bad it kills him and it was just right there, so close.

"It was right there," Sam quietly says to himself. "Right there. All of it, right there. In front of me. Dinner smelled so good. Gotta wash up for dinner."

"Sam?" Lucifer asks, his voice just slightly worried.

"I'm home," Sam keeps rambling, spilling forth the only thoughts he can manage to let free. "Mary needs a new book, new book… James and the Gant peach would be good." He stares at the floor as he mind replays the moments of his life combined with his unobtainable one he just witnessed. "Lou liked that one when she was little. Mary read like her, read like Lou, read so well. So smart. She's so smart." Sam looks up to Lucifer. "Dean looked like Dean. Same eyes. Big, green. Dean looked like Dean. He  _looked_  like Dean."

" _Wow_ ," Lucifer marvels as he watches Sam snap, his brain completely shattering with everything he's been through. "I think I finally broke your cabeza, buddy."

"They're mine. Mine. My family," Sam babbles on with a smile that doesn't reach his lost eyes. "Mary looked like her. Her hair. Her hair. She's just like Lou… but my eyes. Mary had my eyes. Love them. Love them all."

"Shit, well this is just gonna ruin my weekend," Lucifer complains as his arms fly from his sides. "What the hell kinda fun can I have with you while you're all fucked up like this. Damn it, Sam."

"Send me back," Sam suddenly asks while crawling on his hands and knees to kneel at Lucifer's feet. "I have to save them. They burned. They burned like mom. Can't."

"Sammy boy…"

"Now! You have to!" he begs, grabbing the devils leg as he looks up to them. "Dean… and the blood… he needs me. His life will be so hard. He needs me to protect him, like dad. Like dad did. He needs me."

"Allllright," Lucifer draws out as he pries Sam's hands off his leg. He backs up to the doorway. "I'm gonna back off for a little bit, let you stew in this… whatever this is." He shuts the cell door and Sam crawls quickly to the bars.

"You can't leave me here," Sam panics as he grabs the bars. "They need me. I have to save them. Mary can't burn. Lou… I need to get back."

"I'll come find you when you've put yourself back together," Lucifer tells him while walking away. "I'm gonna go see how Adam's doing until then. Been a while since I've seen that kid."

"No! Wait!" Sam shouts out, asking for him to come back. "Put me back! Put me back there! Please! They need me!"

Silence is all he gets and Sam lies onto his side on the floor, curled up fetal position style. "Louise. I just wanted to eat dinner. Feed Dean. Mary needs a new book to read. She needs a book. She's smart. Needs me to help. Help her." He closes his eyes and feels the loss of them already. "Love her. Love Louise. Want her back, want my wife. Need them. My family. Need them."

* * *

 


	26. October 23rd

* * *

Life sucks.

Ok, so it doesn't totally suck. That was a little bit of a lie. He's starting to actually see that lately, that life doesn't have to be just sad and depressive. Lizzy has made sure of that. She's brought light and love to his life when it had been all darkness and empty loneliness.

But some days life hits him hard and does truly suck.

This is one of those days.

Drunk as a fucking skunk, Dean lays out across the backseat of his beloved Impala, bourbon bottle in hand and Binaural playing over the speakers. He's been here for hours, making his way through the Pearl Jam catalogue according to how much Sam likes each album. He started with Vitology (Sam's absolute favorite), then moved on to Yield, and followed it up with Binaural which he's almost done with.

The whole learning how to play the guitar thing that he's started has been surprisingly helpful these past few months, Dean has to admit. When he picked up Lou's prized possession for the first time he knew it could be a lovely distraction from his miserable lot in life. And it has been. When teaching himself how to play he didn't think about anything else, just how to play and the music he was attempting. It was freeing, much like working on his baby is… even if he did kind of suck at it still.

But he should have known better than to try and play a Pearl Jam song. He was curious when he found 'Daughter' in one of the several tab books Lizzy bought him once he showed an interest. She was just so excited to see him enjoy something and feel more than just pain and sadness. She supported this idea from the jump. He'd been really liking the book with a bunch of nineties acoustic songs and this one particular one stood out to him. It's Sam's favorite Pearl Jam song of all time.

So he tried, knowing full well he could end up a pile of drunken sorrow and once he got the chorus down well enough and played it through once he immediately broke down.

And now hours later he lets his car swallow him up along with the whiskey already in his system and the sounds of Eddie Vedder singing over his morose thoughts.

Sam. Sam's still in the cage. He can't save him. He couldn't save him. He's tried, Lord in fact does know he tried. Shit he almost got his ass killed trying. He's researched and read and collected books and information, he's reached out to old contacts from John's journal and cold-called reputable people with Supernatural gifts within the community… all of which said the same thing; what he wanted to do was impossible.

Sam isn't getting out. Ever.

Sam will never listen to Pearl Jam again while discussing their greatness with Lizzy all the while Dean drives them off to the next monster that needs putting down. He's having a hard time trying to accepting that.

Every day that his brother has been gone it's been harder to come to the realization that he truly will never see him again.

Nothing could hurt quite like that.

The knock on the back passenger door yanks him out of his miserable thoughts with a jump. Lizzy smiles sadly at him through the window. Her shift at the bar must be done.

"Hi there," Lizzy quietly greets as she opens the backdoor with its familiar squeal and climbs in. She takes a seat, pulling his legs into her lap so that he can stay lying down. Lizzy then takes the bourbon bottle out of his hand and gulps down a big sip.

Dean stays completely quiet as he watches her.

"What's going on here?" she wonders, handing the bottle back. He takes a sip, wiping his mouth afterwards as he dribbled a little in his drunkenness.

"Drinkin'."

"I can see that." She rubs his leg gently as it drapes across her thighs. "How long you been out here?"

"Dunno," he slurs out to her.

"Oh baby, you got tanked," she says to him with concern, seeing now how bad it is. It's rare that Dean can manage to get this drunk. He's gone professional with his drinking a very long time ago. His tolerance is impressive… or maybe sad. Depends on the perspective.

"So?"

"So nothing," she smiles softly with understanding. "I just haven't seen you like this in a while. You'd been doing good."

"Nothin's good," Dean grumbles, not looking at her once. His eyes roam around the car and avoid her. "S'all shit."

"I know it feels like that now and then," she answers back, keeping her tone calm and loving. "I know. But not everything is bad."

"Yes it is," Dean answers, his voice defeated. This time he's not even angry at all. He's too drunk and exhausted to be angry. He's just hopeless. "I can't 'njoy anythin'."

"Yes you can," Lizzy assures him. "It's ok to have fun and smile now and then."

"No s'not."

"It is."

"No."

"Dean, I promise it is," Lizzy tells him, her hand gently placed on his forearm. "Sam wants you to live. He said that before he did what he did to save the freakin' world. He wants you to be happy."

"Can't." Dean closes his eyes and sighs, the car spinning as he does.

"Not yet," Lizzy agrees with him. She isn't exactly totally happy herself these days but they're making their way to a better spot. "But you will be."

"No."

"Do I make you happy?" Lizzy challenges him, knowing the answer.

Dean just sighs with her good point and finally looks at her.

"See. You can be happy. Maybe not all the time and you'll never forget or get over Sam being gone, but it'll get easier. You'll be able to find happiness. And you'll find it with me."

Dean closes his eyes for a second, not sure how to respond.

"I love you."

"L've you too," Dean slurs out in return. "Not gonna get through this."

"Yes you are."

"Need you."

Lizzy pauses a moment and smiles at him, his body nearly slack as the booze overwhelms him.

"I need you too," she tells him.

"Need you more," he simply says back. His eyes are still closed and she can see the blackout fully consuming him bit by bit. "So much more."

"I'm ok with that," Lizzy smiles back. She loves being needed by him so much and is willing to step up to the challenge. She always will be.

"You shouldn't wan' me," Dean says to her, his pity party still raging as he slowly succumbs to sleep. "Yer too good… better 'an me."

"First of all, no I'm not," she assures him as she takes back the bourbon bottle. She pulls the cap off the head of the army man stuck in the backdoor ashtray and closes it up, knowing he's past done with drinking for the night. "I'm not better or worse than you are."

"I'm bad," Dean says sloppily and in the most basic way. "You..re good."

"Not true," Lizzy responds, crawling to lay on top of him. She places a hand to each of his cheeks and his eyes flutter open sluggishly. "You're wonderful." She leans down and kisses him seriously, his respond slow. She pulls away when the booze on his breath is overwhelming. "And you're hammered! Oh my God!"

"Drank a 'lil…"

"Drank a lot," Lizzy laughs. "Baby, you could light your breath on fire!"

"Don't wanna feel it," Dean tells her quietly, his eyes closing again.

"I know it hurts," she agrees with him, well aware of the gaping wound in her heart that is Sam. She does understand it. "Let's go to bed, huh?"

"Sleep here," he says to her, too drunk to want to move, and brings his arms around her body as it's laying on top of him.

"No," she denies him with a grin. "Come on."

"No, home," Dean simply says to her.

She shockingly gets it. He doesn't want to leave his car. In the Impala is where he felt home, felt safe, felt familiarity and right now he needs all of that. This was the home that he and Sam always shared.

Looking at him, his head bent at a funny angle against the side door and breath heavy with whiskey as his breathing evens out, she makes a decision. Getting out of the car quickly, she pulls a couple blankets out of the trunk. She then ducks into the front seat, puts her IPod in, and puts on some live Pearl Jam. She knows why the band is on so she keeps it playing.

Lizzy then gets back into the backseat. She bundles up the smaller blanket and lifts his head gingerly. She places the makeshift pillow under him so that he won't wake up with a neck ache. He'll be pukey with a pounding head for sure, but not with a hurting neck to add to it at least.

She then lays back down on top of him and pulls the blanket over them both.

In his sleep he brings his arms right back around her as she settles in. No way was she leaving her husband alone outside in the car all night. It's cramped, it's a bit uncomfortable, but she doesn't care.

"You're gonna be fine, Hot Shot," she says, fairly sure he can't hear her. She closes her eyes and lays her cheek to his chest. "We're gonna be ok."

* * *

 


	27. October 31st (Part 1)

* * *

"Dude! Stop eating all the candy!" Lizzy scolds as she sits at the bottom of the foyer stairs with the big bowl in her lap, Cass next to her seated on the hardwood floor. Dean reaches in for another piece and just smiles.

"It's Halloween, man," he says as if it's an acceptable excuse and tears open the mini Snickers while sitting down next to her. Cass gets up to sniff the treat in his hand and Dean pulls it away. "No chocolate! It'll kill ya', man!"

"Same to you, Hot shot!" Lizzy laughs with his massive candy eating. "And the candy is for the kids, not for the kids at heart."

"Fuck that," he pops the entire piece into his mouth, chewing while talking. "Adults deserve some candy too."

" _Some_  being the key word there… not  _all_!" Lizzy moves the bowl to the other side of her body and blocks it from him.

"Whatever…" Dean brushes aside as he reaches into his jeans pocket. He takes out dog biscuit, knowing Cass must have been dying for a treat of his own through watching the night. At least Dean knows he himself would be. "He been good?"

"Our little angel," Lizzy jests. "Just been sitting quietly and checking the visitors coming and going."

"So his usual?"

"Pretty much."

Dean turns to their dog. "Cass, sit."

Very obediently he listens, walking to Dean a few steps and sitting down right in front of him.

"Shake."

Cass lifts his right paw and gives it to Dean.

"Nope, other paw."

The dog switches his paws. Dean then stands up and puts out both palms high up.

"Gimme me ten."

Cass gets up on his hind legs and hits his paws to Dean's hands.

"Good boy, Cassie!" Lizzy cheers on her beloved pet and ruffles his fur on his head in praise.

"Ha, love that one," Dean tells her. "Took him no time to learn it, too." He sits back down and, knowing the drill, Cass sits facing him again. Dean places the treat on his nose and Cass waits patiently, his focus switching between Dean and Lizzy as he listens for the go ahead from either one.

"Hate to say it, Dean… but I think you're a dog guy now."

"Nah, I still don't like dogs. Just Cass."

"Yeah, well, I'm starting to think he likes you better than me now."

"So not possible," Dean tells her as he watches Cass calmly sitting there, treat still within eating reach yet not taking advantage. Cass attached himself to Lizzy instantly and he knows if the dog had to pick one of them it'd be her every time.

"So is possible. When I work you two go for walks and you teach him tricks… he's spoiled by you."

"He's not spoiled. He earns it all." Dean then let's Cass have his treat. "Dig in, pup."

In one swift movement, Cass moves his head and has the treat in his mouth, crunching away happily.

"And now a treat for me for teaching Cass awesome tricks," Dean reaches for the bowl, Lizzy pulling it away from his reach just as they hear…

"Trick or Treat!" as a new group of children arrive on their doorstep. Lizzy stands up to greet them with a huge smile on her face and ditches Dean and his grabby hands. She fucking loves the holiday!

"Wow, you guys look amazing!" she exaggerates as she looks them over. "A dinosaur! Well now you have to roar for me if you want candy!"

The small child screams out a roar for her with all his little might and she acts scared of him.

"Whoa, ok!" she drops a piece in his bag. "You are one super scary dino!" She looks to the kid next to him. "And I can't forget Dracula." She hands out another piece and then pauses when she really looks at the third, oldest boy in the group. He has a short-sleeved, mustard yellow button down with a brown and mustard striped tie, some old, big framed glasses that look right out of the eighties, and his short hair parted in the middle of his forehead. When she looks at his fake work badge hanging from his shirt pocket she nearly screams with excitement. "Oh my God! You're Dwight Shrute!"

"That I am," he says back without a smile, being in character.

"The Office is my favorite show! Holy crap, Dean, get a load of this kid!" She turns around to force him to look.

"Yeah, that's pretty damn good," Dean says passively while admitting the costume was quite well done.

"You just made my whole night, dude," Lizzy says while shaking her head in appreciation. "You have no idea. This is the greatest costume I've seen yet! Extra candy for you for that awesome costume!"

"That's very gracious if you." The kid then turns sharply and heads back out the street.

"Jesus, I swear if Dwight were a real person that would totally be his real kid." Lizzy sits back down onto the stairs next to Dean again. "Best costume ever."

"It was pretty good," Dean agrees as he calculates his next move at grabbing more candy.

"Mine's better though," she smirks over to him, a bright glint in her eyes revealing her excitement.

"And if you'd just tell me what it is I could agree or disagree with that statement."

"Well then I guess you should take over down here for me while I go get ready," she says while moving to hand over the bowl. She freezes halfway. "Promise you'll leave enough candy for the few stragglers left out there and you won't eat it all."

"I promise nothing," he tells her and steals the bowl from her grip before tucking it into his arms and shielding any attempt at Lizzy getting it back.

"Fuck," Lizzy complains as she stands. "At the very least don't get a stomach ache or something. We have a party to go get wasted at."

"Parties…" Dean grumbles a bit.

"Are fun, Mr. Antisocial. Maybe you should dress up as the Uni-Bomber or something."

"Hey, I'm a fucking blast at parties," he tells her while unwrapping a mini Twix.

"Yeah, once I can actually get you there," Lizzy laughs a bit as she heads up the stairs. "I'll be ready to go at nine."

"Yeah yeah," Dean says back to her while fishing for his next piece. Without looking away from the bowl he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a second dog treat, holding it out in his palm for Cass to take, which he does without doing a trick this time.

"One for you," he says to the dog as he spoils him much like Dean just claimed he didn't, while unwrapping another piece of Halloween candy. He smiles wide. "One for me."

* * *

"L," Dean calls through the closed bedroom door as he walks down the hallway, another new beer in hand. He's already gone through two while waiting for her. "You ok in there? Need a hand?" he asks slyly as he leans against the bedroom door, hoping for a yes.

"No, perv, I'm good!" she yells right back out for him. "Just relax, I need like 2 more minutes!"

"Fine," Dean complains as he walks into the living room and plops down onto the couch. He takes a large pull from his bottle of beer and puts on the ScyFy channel, hoping for a halfway decent horror movie to be on. Whatever is playing right now is campy at best but he tuned in just in time to see some dude get offed with a pick-ax to the face so he sticks with it.

Hearing the bedroom door open across the hall Dean cheers, "Finally!" He stands up, ready to go. "Let's get the hell outta… oh, shiiiiit."

Lizzy stands in the doorway with a proud, excited smirk on her face as he gets a good look at her. She went for an old kink of his on this one, making sure that the first time she's had an excuse to wear a real costume in years isn't put to waste.

"You're… did you just dress up… like a… seriously!?" Dean stutters through in an almost comical way with his eyes blown wide and mouth hung open.

"Ah, yes I did Mr. Winchester," she says playfully while pressing her hands together and bowing to him, the long draping arms of her red kimono with black dragons printed on it hanging loosely as she does. The skirt of her costume is dangerously short and her legs are wrapped in black fishnet stockings that end at her thigh. She once more puts to good use her patent leather black heels that once were reserved for her FBI suit. As Dean's eyes drag slowly back up her body he has to stop at her chest where the neckline of her kimono plunges deep. He's not too sure how she did it, but her boobs are about doubled in size. They look huge.

Cass growls a bit from the living room corner when he gets a bit confused by the mystery woman in his house. Lizzy just laughs.

"Cassie! Relax, it's me!"

When the dog hears her familiar voice he once more calms down and lies back down on his bed.

"Holy fuck," Dean says as he drops his beer on the coffee table and is standing in front of her immediately. She smiles up at him, her lips red and her eyes lined with heavy black liner extending out into wings.

"I take it you like it?" she smirks knowingly up to him, already sure she was going to kill him with this outfit.

"A little bit," he says in a way that lets her know a little really means a whole lot. He touches the jet black, pin straight wig she has on with bangs going straight across her forehead. "This is awesome."

"Glad you think so," she says, craning her neck and kissing him once before wiping away the smudge of red she left behind on his lips.

"How the hell did you get your boobs like that?" he has to know as he feels them shamelessly through her costume.

"A really good bra and some chicken cutlets."

"Chicken what!?"

"Nevermind, you'll find out later," she laughs before backing away from him. "Right now, this Busty Asian Beauty is ready to hit the bar and get trashed!"

As she turns to get ready to leave, Dean quickly grabs her arm and pulls her back. His hands grabbing her hips, he holds her into himself.

"Fuck the bar," he says to her, kissing her neck once. "Let's just stay here."

"Ha, nice try," she say to him and tries to push away from him but his hold is tight. He kisses her jaw before moving to her ear.

"Come on, this is like my biggest fantasy right here. You can't expect me to head out into public while you're looking like this."

Lizzy brings her lips to his ear and mimics him. "Yes I can." And she backs away from him.

"L, I'm gonna be rocking wood all night now. You can't do this to me."

"You'll be fine!" Lizzy rolls her eyes. She knew he'd be excited by this but she didn't think getting him to leave the house would be a problem with the promise of free booze. She should have thought ahead better.

"No I won't," the childlike petulance in his voice tells her.

"Yes you will, because…" she steps right back into him, up on her tiptoes to reach him. "If you come to the bar and get drunk with me…" she kisses him once. "When we get back here tonight…" she kisses him again. "You'll have your fun. All you want."

"Sweeten the deal for me."

Now it was Lizzy's turn to look at him with surprise. "You need me to do more!?"

"Always," Dean jokes a bit as he once more lets his hands rest on her breasts.

"What are you looking for, Hot Shot?" Lizzy asks with an exasperated tone.

"If you're gonna dress like this you gotta play the part too." He leans down and runs his tongue across the exposed top of her breasts. He couldn't help it. They looked too fucking good.

"Ok…" she answers while thinking it over. "So what's that mean exactly?"

"Massage parlor, happy ending, the whole nine," he says without an ounce of shame. He's had this fantasy for so long now. He even went to an old school, underground massage parlor he found in New York City once while hunting but those chicks were terrible. They were old. And not a big boob in the place. And it was shady as hell. Not exactly the comforting and sexy event he had in mind. He wants Lizzy to make up for that.

"You're serious?" Lizzy wonders with a little surprise. He  _really_  has thought about this before.

"As a freakin' heart attack… fucking A, these are huge," he interrupts his own self to comment once more on her breasts, his hands not yet leaving them.

"So you're talking full blown role playing here," Lizzy sums up. "Does that mean I have to pronounce my Ls as Rs?"

"Well that's just racist," Dean tells her instantly.

"Hey, this is  _your_  fantasy, dude," she laughs while backing away from him, Dean frowning when he's not longer touching her. "Just trying to get a grasp of what you're looking for."

"Let's just get the fuck outta here so we can get back sooner," Dean suggests, his impatience already on overdrive as he wipes the red lipstick off his lips with a grimace. "And no getting fall down wasted this time, huh? You gotta stay sober enough to make me the happiest man alive."

"Yes, dear," Lizzy says overly silly as she grabs his hand and pulls him to the stairs to leave.

"I'm serious! I'll never forgive you if you blow this for me," Dean warns as he kills the last of his beer quickly and drops it on the kitchen counter on the way. "You've been known to get too drunk to have fun later on."

"And I can behave myself just enough for you to have said fun, ok? I  _am_  responsible enough to handle my own drinking."

"Yeah," Dean says skeptically, worried as they leave and head out for the night.

"Oh, wait!" Lizzy says with excitement as she turns around to face Dean, her hand slipping into her cleavage quickly to pull out a small rectangle piece of paper.

"What are you doing?" he asks her, curious as a she peels a large sticker from the paper.

"I…" she starts while pressing the paper onto his long sleeved Henley before patting it a couple times. "Am giving you your costume!"

When he looks down at the sticker he realizes it's a name badge.  _Hello, my name is Matthew._

"This is my costume?"

"Yeah, you're Matthew," she grins wide before heading back for the front door again. "Minimal costuming."

"Huh," he wonders aloud while pressing the sticker on a little better to ensure it stays put. "Cleaver."

"Well, I  _am_  the smartest woman on Earth. What did you expect?" She winks to him as they once more head for the door. "Come on, Matty-boy. Let's get wasted!"

* * *

"Shots!" Lizzy shouts out loudly through her very buzzed state as she raises her shot glass for the fourth time that night. She, Dean, her high school friend Jenny, Jenny's husband, and her co-workers Johnny and Nate all clink their shots of Jameson together and down them all at once.

The Halloween party at her place of work is a legendary one. For the four years they have been in operation, Halloween is  _the_ day of reckoning for the bar employees. The owner always hired out bartenders for the night so that the workers could dress up and enjoy the holiday in true drunken fashion. That's the one thing every person that worked at the bar had in common. They loved getting truly fucked up.

"Fuck, I love Halloween!" Lizzy shouts out loudly, her face lit up in a smile as she looks over the group she's with. Very rarely in her life since her parent died has she gotten to have this kind of fun while surrounded by this many people she truly loves. Jenny, her old friend of several years, even got a babysitter for her one year old son for the occasion after Lizzy invited her and her husband.

Now, Lizzy's having probably too much fun.

Once Dean places his now empty shot glass onto the bar top, he looks to his wife with some concern. She's looking a little on the wobbly side.

"L," Dean says as he stands right in front of her, Lizzy smiling up at him with a silly, dumb grin. "You ok?"

"I'm fucking great, Hot Shot!" she tells him excitedly.

"Just making sure you're not too hammered," Dean tells her, trying his best to not come off as policing her. He hates,  _hates_  when she does that to him and he doesn't want to be a hypocrite… but they have plans later, plans he's not willing to give up on.

"There's no such thing as too hammered," Lizzy rebuts with a dopey look. "Plus, you're not worried about me. You're worried about later tonight." She then grabs his hands and presses them into her chest, one per huge Busty Asian Breast. "Huh?"

"I might be," Dean laughs a little with her antics. "But mostly I do actually care about your wellbeing… and your ability to walk… and function as a human being…"

"And my ability to make your fantasy a reality, I get it," she laughs a bit. "Don't you worry. I'll take good care of you as promised." She winks up to him and somehow holds her own through her heavy drinking. He's impressed, as always, and he knows she can handle much more booze than this but his selfish desires are really what are driving him tonight.

"And you never break promises," Dean does admit, squeezing her breasts once before taking his hands away.

"No I don't," she laughs some more as Jenny turns to face her.

"You sure you really want to babysit in a few weeks?" she asks her friend after considering the offer Lizzy made an hour ago during a much more sober moment. "Brennan's a pretty active little guy these days. It'll be a long day."

"Please, I can handle him," Lizzy brushes off. "I've dealt with much worse, much scarier things in my life." She laughs it off.

"You say that now…" Jenny just smiles. "Ok, I'll call you tomorrow all about it… after I get over my hangover of course."

"Sounds awesome to me," Lizzy answers back, her hazy smile bright. She's actually quite excited about the idea of watching Jenny's son for the day while she's at a family wedding. She loves the little guy.

"Maybe it'll be like a trial run for you…" Jenny says with a wink. "You know, for the future."

"I think you're getting ahead of yourself, Jenny," Lizzy warns as she grabs a couple beers from one of the bartenders.

"And Dean, you can come with Liz," Jenny keeps pressuring as she includes him in. "I bet you're great with kids."

"You are just so subtle it's amazing, Jen," Dean rolls his eyes and takes a beer from Lizzy with a thank you.

"Aren't I?" she grins. "I'm just saying you two are married, you're in one place for once… time to get cracking. You're both kid people, I can tell."

"Oh yeah," Lizzy exaggerates as she gestures to her huge rack that's fully displayed with the beer in her hand. "Total mother material."

"You still get your nights off, jackass," Jenny laughs, pointing to her own quite skimpy referee costume.

"Well, calm down a bit," Lizzy tells her. "We're still settling and overcoming some stuff… we're not quite ready for that but it's nice to know that you're rooting for us when the time comes. Until then… I'll just practice by trying to keep your son alive."

"Shut up," Jenny spits back with Lizzy's modesty.

"Jen, stop bugging them, huh?" Jim says to his wife as he joins their conversation when he realizes she's doing the baby-talk again. She does it all the time and he hates how hard she puts pressure on others. She's still baby crazy. "Not everyone has to have kids. Calm down."

"But  _they_  have to!" Jenny starts to loudly say, her drunken state coming through clearly. "What a waste of two good looking people if they don't! That's just beautiful kids waiting to happen!"

"Jesus Christ," Lizzy complains, a hand over her eyes for a moment with Jenny's display. Dean's face alone proves he's feeling about the same.

"Jenny…" Jim starts to warn but she keeps going.

"Their babies  _would_  be beautiful, you can't say they wouldn't. They have to have like… seven!"

"Hey! Let's do shots!" Jim suggests in a bright, excited manner as she completely changes the subject.

"We just did shots," Lizzy giggles as Jenny is already quite drunk.

"Yeah so it's the perfect time to do another," Jenny logics without any form of real logic while turning to the bartender a few feet away and forgetting about her baby-oriented train of thought completely. "Another round! Woo!"

"Oh God," Lizzy complains as she watches Jenny order another shot of whiskey for the group.

"She's a fucking woo-girl," Dean informs her with a smirk.

"A huge one," Lizzy informs him. "You should've seen her in high school. Give her a pint of schnapps and she sounded like a fucking train."

Dean shudders with the thought.

"Sorry about all that, guys," Jim apologizes on his wife's behalf.

"Don't worry about it, man," Dean smiles with a clap on Jim's back.

"Just… since Brennan was born she's been all baby-crazy and wants everyone she knows to have them too. I've been doing everything I can to keep her off of my junk and wait for a second kid. She's fucking nuts."

"A husband trying to avoid having sex with their wife… huh," Dean jokes. "Not the usual complaint."

"It's just that one's enough for now. I think I'm gonna go celibate for a while to make sure," Jim laughs. "She makes it sound like all fun and photo ops but kids are fucking exhausting. It's not the cake walk she makes it out to be."

Jenny interrupts the conversation when she distributes the shots she ordered and holds hers up. They all cheers and down their booze.

"That should be one too many for her," Jim winks at Dean and Lizzy. "She'll probably leave you alone for a while."

Jim steers her away from the two to give them a break and Dean huffs an odd laugh.

"You're friend's intense," he tells Lizzy.

"A little bit," she laughs right back as she brings her arms around 'Matthew's' neck and looks up at him from under her long fake eyelashes. "So, how you feelin' up there?"

"Pretty good," he tells her, his voice taking on a much more smooth and slick tone as he brings his arms around his 'Bust Asian Beauty's' waist. "I could be doing a whole lot better though."

"Yeah, you know…" Lizzy starts as she rubs his shoulders. "You do seem tense."

"Oh, so tense," Dean concurs wholeheartedly.

"You should relax. Maybe look into getting a massage."

"You know any good places?" he asks her, leaning down to kiss her slowly once.

"I might know a good one," she responds with a smile, kissing him again. "I hear the girls are good there. Big boobs too."

"Sounds lovely," Dean smirks right back, kissing her again as his hands land on her ass, a cheek per hand.

"Though you need to be careful," she warns. "I hear they have a lot on the secret menu and they can get you good. Better bring plenty of cash."

"Can we stop the cute little banter bullshit and get the fuck outta here already?" he asks with sheer impatience.

"Just let me say goodbye to everyone." Lizzy backs away and starts making her rounds as Dean stands there, watching her walk away.

She's fucking awesome.

* * *

 


	28. October 31st (Part 2)

* * *

"Ok," Lizzy says, walking hand in hand with Dean to their bedroom. She leads him into the room and lets go. "Get undressed. I'll be back soon."

She then walks to the doorway and turns to wink at him once before shutting the door. He's left alone with a simple task to do and he smiles wide to himself.

"She did her research," Dean smirks to himself as he can already tell she's aware of how Japanese massage parlors work. He has to wonder when she did such research as he only asked for this huge fantasy of his as they were on their way out the door but he doesn't worry too much about it as he pulls his shirt over his head. Fuck it. Who cares how she knows. All that matters is that she knows.

Once completely undressed, Dean flops down onto their bed. He lies on his back, hands behind his head and legs crossed at the ankles, and he waits patiently. He can hear her heels clicking around the hardwood floors of the apartment now and then and the anticipation kills him. Boy, normal life. Being able to go to a home and role play the night away with the wife. Alright. This ain't so bad.

After a while of waiting, the bedroom door opens up again. Lizzy walks in, full costume still on and as perfect as ever, and she has a few items in her hold.

"Good evening, Mr. Winchester," she says with a warm smile as she places everything down on their bureau.

"Hello to you too," Dean smiles from his reclined position.

"I see you are booked for the one hour massage package," she explains, setting up her IPod dock.

"That I am," he answers, playing along as he looks her over again. Her short kimono rides up a bit as she leans over to press play, giving him a quick peek of her two round cheeks as she does.

"Well then," she says as she turns around and the tranquil sound of a generic Japanese meditation track fills the room. "I see you've already made yourself quite comfortable." She eyes him over as he's completely undressed. Lucky her.

"That I did," Dean nods with a wide smile that he just can't seem to make stop.

"I think we should get started then," Lizzy says with a comforting grin as she walks to him. "Would you mind getting up for just a second for me?"

"Not at all."

Dean stands up and Lizzy gets to work. She strips the bed down to just the fitted sheet and places one of their pillows on the foot of the bed towards one side.

"All set, Mr. Winchester," she nods to the bed for him to get on.

"You can call me Dean," he tells her happily as he gets right back on the bed, lounging much like he had been before yet his head is now on the pillow at the other end.

"Ok, Dean. Could you turn over for me?" she asks quickly while grabbing the flat sheet off of the floor. He listens and she covers him with the sheet from the waist down.

"Jesus, did you seriously research all this or something?" Dean has to ask her as she goes about her business exactly as an actual masseuse would.

"Excuse me?" she wonders innocently as she walks back to the bureau to grab a bottle of baby oil she had in the bathroom. Her skin looked perfect all night for a reason. The stuff is magic.

"You just seem to suddenly know exactly how this is supposed to go," Dean says to her as she walks back to him.

"It's my job," she says with a smirk. "Of course I know how this goes. It pays my bills."

Dean nods while impressed. She's staying in character. A method actor.

"Ok."

"Are you ready?" she questions, popping the cap on the bottle.

"Sweetheart, I was born ready."

Over the next lovely half hour, Lizzy pulled out all the stops. Starting simple with one arm at a time followed by his back, Dean did his best to fight the call of sleep induced by booze and the massage. Her hands strong yet soothing enough put him in such a perfect, calm, relaxing place. And then she started in on the ass cheeks and he woke right back up again with an alert smile.

After making her way down each leg and to his feet Lizzy had to interrupt his good time just briefly.

"Turn."

"No problem," Dean returns with, flipping over under the sheet now just covering over his hips.

Lizzy gives him an inspired smile as she pours more oil into her palm. She walks to stand over his head, rubs her hands together, and then places them on his shoulders. Pressing her hands into his skin, she moves over him, making her way down his chest and stomach. As she does she leans over his head, her breasts pressed into his face.

"Oh, sorry about that," she says with clear levity. "I should have asked first. Is that alright for you?"

"Just fine," his muffled voice says to her from under her larger than normal boobs. She laughs quietly but continues on with her work, allowing him to enjoy the view some more.

Eventually Lizzy reaches further down under the sheet, her hands running along his hips and upper thighs.

"Is there anything else I can do for you today?" she says as her hands continue to work so close it almost hurts.

"Oh God yes," Dean answers quickly, having been waiting for that question all night.

Lizzy stands tall and walks to the side of the bed again.  “What can I do for you, Dean?”

“Guess that depends on what’s on the menu.”

She smiles wide right back at him.  “Well,” she begins to tell him as she pulls back the sheet covering him.  Her fingers dance lightly along his length teasingly.  “I’d be happy to give you the traditional hand release, of course.  I also offer a lovely breast release if you’re into that.”

The idea alone had Dean’s cock twitching once in her hand.

“Feels like you enjoy that idea.”

His eyes wider than a kid about to blow out his birthday candles, Dean answers with excitement.  “I _love_ that idea.”

“Whatever you want,” she grins right back as she stands up.  Lizzy keeps her eyes trained on Dean as she unties her robe, opening it up and letting it drop to the floor at her feet. 

“Good God,” Dean sighs within a groan as he gets a good look at her.  The black and red bra giving her boobs the intense boost they’ve had all night, her cleavage insane, her skimpy black panties, her thigh-high fishnet stocking, the damn wig… he can’t think.  He can’t form anything with his brain more than sex, big boobs, hot, holy shit, awesome. 

“Normally I don’t like to get so close to my customers,” Lizzy explains as she swings a leg over him and straddles his thighs.  “However, I don’t normally get such fine clients as yourself coming to see me.  So do you mind that I sit like this?”

“By all means,” he smirks as she reaches for the bottle of oil on the night stand once more.  Pouring some in her hands, she again rubs her palms together to warm it up.  She them takes him in her hands, wrapping her fingers around him with one fist atop the other.  Stroking slowly, knowing that he’s not likely to last more than a couple minutes since he’s been dying for this for so long now, Lizzy lets her hands envelope him, running his length up to the tip and then back down to the base again.

“Mm,” Dean moans as he lets his head fall back onto the pillow beneath him, his eyes closing with the wonderful sensation.  Oil slicked handies were not a normal thing in his life but damn is it good right now.  Really good.

Twisting her wrists as she keeps pumping very slowly, almost painstakingly so, Lizzy just has to smile.  She loves how easy it is to make him happy sometimes.  Sure her hands and arms are a bit tired from the massage, but she could care less.  Dean enjoying himself this much, not depressed nor drinking too much, she’ll do this every day if she has to. 

When a sharp sigh escapes Dean’s lips, his hips rising once off the mattress with true gratification, Lizzy knows she has to move on before he’s done for good. 

Dean feels her hands leave him and the unstoppable groan of sheer disappointment makes her laugh a bit.  He looks up at her and catches her just in time to watch her pulls something from her bra.

“Chicken cutlets,” she smirks as she tosses one breast enhancer aside before reaching for the other tan, silicon booster.

“Oooh,” he nods when he understands her statement from earlier that night.  Cutlets, ok.  That _is_ what they looked like and God bless those things for giving him a spectacular view for the night.

Lizzy quickly loses her bra and lets it join the rest of the clothing already on the floor.  She oils up her hands once more, runs them over his length to slick him up again, before getting off of him to kneel on the floor at the side of the bed. 

Leaning over the edge, Lizzy brings her chest over his hips.  She then presses her breast together and traps his hard and seriously aching dick between them before sliding up and down.  It’s a little awkward going for her at first with the uncomfortable position but one look at Dean’s face, pleasure coated eyes watching closely to every move she makes, clearly it doesn’t matter. 

“Oh… fuck…” Dean drawls out in time with her strokes.  It’s official.  This chick is nuts.  She dressed up like his fantasy, set up exactly what he’s always wanted as his fantasy (hell, she practically read his mind on this one), and she’s making every bit of the long running fantasy come true no matter how selfless and out of her element she has to be to do so.  She’s awesome.  She’s better than awesome.

And this right here is so past awesome he couldn’t describe it in words if he even tried. 

Running his hand down the side of her jet black, long and straight wig, Lizzy looks up at him and smiles as she works.  Her lips still a bright red, her eyes still lined darkly… damn did she look good like this.  And the fishnets with the pumps… she’s killing it.  And, even if in his fantasies he never asked for much more than this, he wants more.  He wants all of her.

“More,” Dean asks for through near pants.

“It’ll cost you,” Lizzy smirks his way, keeping in character as she knows what he wants.

“Don’t care,” he quickly informs her. 

Standing up again to lower her black thong to the floor, she steps out while sending a burning look Dean’s way.  “Full service is very expensive with me,” she explains, straddling his hips with just her thigh-highs, stilettos, and wig on.  She leans down until her face is just an inch from his.  “You sure you can afford me Dean?”

With an expression of unabashed desire as he reaches down and holds himself at the ready, he very simply answers, “I’ll pay anything to fuck you.”

And with that he thrusts up into her.

“Oh… yeah,” Lizzy instantly moans.  The whole thing did get her going.  She always got all hot and bothered when being able to make Dean crazy like this.  Right now she’s very grateful for his full service choice.

“Worth every fucking penny,” Dean mutters as he relishes her warmth and presses up into her a few times. 

“Hold on,” Lizzy tells him to pause, a hand pressed to his chest to ensure he listens.  “You just relax, Dean.  Let me do my job.”  She sit’s up tall on top of him.  “I want to earn all that money you’re gonna owe me.”

And with that statement Lizzy plants one foot on the mattress, half-crouching over him before she begins moving.

“Ah shit,” Dean hisses as she bounces over him, his hands moving the cup her ass as she moves.  This is so fucking perfect his heart could easily explode with it all. 

With a quick flash of irony, Lizzy takes his hands and brings them up to rest on her breasts.  Usually he loves her ass most as it is her best feature if one was to ask her but that’s not what this is about.  “ _Busty_ … Asian Beauty, remember?”

“How could I forget, oh shit,” Dean barely gets out.  As the pleasure builds he grabs hard to her chest, soaking in all he feels of her. 

“You like that tight little Asian pussy?” Lizzy playfully asks, her voice being a deadly weapon that can effectively kill Dean in no time flat in moments like this.

“Oh my God,” he quickly answer back, eyes rolling back.

“Do you, baby?” she asks, quickening her pace.

“Yes.”

“Say it,” she challenges him, always having noticed how much he enjoys being asked to say things to her.  “Say you love it.”

“I love that Asian pussy,” Dean very easily answers.  “Fuck, I love it.”

“You love how this Asian pussy can take all of you big cock?”

“Oh, oh God.  Love it, need it,” Dean starts rambling a bit in his efforts to form words through his extreme enjoyment.  “Oh fuck!  Yes!  Fuck!”

Knowing him as well as she does, Lizzy quickly lifts herself off of him and grabs him in both hands once more.  She works him over again with her twisting fists, much like he clearly enjoyed before and keeping to the hand-oriented happy ending.  It seemed only proper.

Everything culminating into one hugely satisfying moment, Dean gives in to it all.  With one of the most base, animalistic sounds he ever made in his life, he comes with her hands firmly wrapped around him.

“Oh fuck… oh _fuck_!”

His satisfaction punches out of him with ferocity.  Oh God, all of it.  The costume, the fantasy, his Lizzy… it’s fucking perfect.

Slowing her strokes along with his come down, Lizzy happily helps him ride out the bliss as it hits and slowly recedes.  By the time Dean’s coherent enough to speak she’s letting him go from her grip.

“Wow,” she says to him with shock in her voice.  When he looks over to her she’s already getting up from the bed.  “You weren’t kidding.  You _really_ wanted that fantasy, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Dean pants out as he lays back into the bed, the back of his head pressed into the pillow beneath him as he slips into a perfect, near thoughtless place.

“Then I am more than excited to give you that,” she giggles lightly in the usual Lizzy way as she reverts back to herself.  She walks to him, box of tissues in hand, and once more straddles his legs like before.  After cleaning her own hands off she grabs a couple more fresh tissues and begins to do the same to his stomach. 

“Thank you,” Dean says in a small, beyond satisfied tone.

“Well, you know, going to sleep with jizz all over you isn’t the best idea,” she cracks with another laugh as she finishes up.  “You’ll wake up glued to the sheets.”

“No.  No, L,” Dean says to her, a hand reaching out to grasp her wrist and get her full attention.  “Thank you.  For all this.”

“To see you this ridiculously happy… anytime, Hot Shot.”

While still lying back he watches her toss the used tissues in the trash can and then look back to him with her usual huge, toothy grin.  She hasn’t looked this giddy in a long time and that smile always hits him square in the heart.

“You owe me money now, you know?” she jokes freely, giggling lightly.  “Hope you stopped at the ATM before you came in tonight.”

Quickly Dean grabs her waist hard and moves her off of his hips and onto her back.  He drops her on the open mattress space beside them.

“You know, it’s the damnedest thing,” Dean says to her, hovering over her body and slowly making his way south, leaving a trail on her skin left by his tongue.

Lizzy just watches with sheer shock and awe as he lights right back up. 

“I forgot to grab some cash on my way here,” he says up to her, ducking down while lying flat on his stomach on the mattress.  He presses her thighs open sharply before dragging his tongue up her center, flicking once over her sweet spot as if to punctuate his sentiment.  “I think I’ll have to work off my debt.”

He should be done for.  Completely and totally spent.  But no, not her Dean.  Not when he owes her and can clearly pay her back with more sex, this time centered solely on her.

“Oh!” Lizzy nearly shouts when Dean’s tongue circles her clit.  She props herself up on her elbows and looks down at him with eyes smoldering.  “I’m so _fucking_ ok with that.”

* * *

 


	29. November 8th

* * *

"Fuck you," Lizzy laughs uncontrollably while sitting at Bobby's kitchen table in the wee hours of the morning.

Sam blinks a few times, looking around the familiar room that he knows he hasn't seen in years as déjà vu hits him hard. He's seen this moment before. He knows this already.

"No, fuck  _you_ , Lizard!" Lou shouts right back with a huge grin from her chair to the right of her. "You know full well that it was me that took down that fucking shifter for good! Don't try and show off just because we met some hot guys you want to impress!"

Lizzy's jaw drops as her cheeks turn a slight pink with the accusation. "I'm just telling the truth, you glory hog. I don't care who's here or how hot they are!"

Sam glances at his brother quickly out of the corner of his eye, catching the dumb, drunken grin on his face as he looks at Lizzy and takes in her mention of his hotness. They may have just met these girls tonight, only a matter of a few hours ago at that, but he can already tell Dean's got his crosshairs set on the dark haired girl. Must have been a good conversation they had in the bathroom while she sewed his arm back up. Plus, even Sam knows from just looking at her that she's exactly his type. Dark hair, tattoos, big dark eyes, leather jacket, a decent rack and most definitely the kind of ass than makes Dean do a double take. Sure, his brother will hook up with ever type of chick but Lizzy is summing up his preferences all in one package. He's going to be hitting on her non-stop while they're at Bobby's for now so he hopes she's ready for that. Poor girl.

"You'll have to excuse my friend here," Lou says to Sam and Dean. "She suffers from short term memory loss. You see, this shifter was walking around looking like her."

"That fucking bitch," Lizzy angrily grumbles to herself, taking a sip from her beer bottle.

"And it was hanging with me for a few hours. Naturally, I figured out it wasn't really my best friend pretty fucking easily and _I_ … and I repeat,  _I_ … offed the fucker."

"What gave it away?" Sam asks Lou with a grin, curious to find out. He's remembering this night of about four and a half years ago clear as day and quickly falls in line with it, letting the happy and easy time replay with him inside of it.

"A few things. The first big clue was when we went to a diner and shifter-Lizzy ordered a salad."

"And I don't eat that shit," Lizzy says with more pride than she should have as she empties the rest of the whiskey bottle into a shot glass, coming up short for the second shot she intended on pouring. "If it never mooed, clucked, or oinked then it's not dinner."

Sam has to glance at his brother with that comment. Sure enough Dean's eyes are wide with shock and excitement. Oh boy.

"And then when some girl spilled her drink on shifter-Lizzy's jeans at the bar that night she didn't try to pummel the girl over it. She let it go… and therefore freaked me the fuck out."

"You would have fought a chick over a spilt drink?" Dean asks through his alcohol haze. He sounds genuinely concerned with the idea.

"She's been known to fight over much,  _much_  less!" Lou huffs with disbelief. "Lizzy's got a fucking scary temper. Heads up to you two, don't mess with her."

"That's not good," Dean sits up taller, his eyes actually opening all the way after having been lidded with drunkenness.

"It is what it is," Lizzy shrugs it off. "Gotta keep the fury of a tough life in check somehow."

She makes light of her character defect and Dean opens his mouth to say something, most likely to insert his much-unneeded opinion of her anger issue, when Sam grabs his forearm. Dean looks at him and Sam shakes his head, telling him to let it go as they barely know these two. Dean gives him a dirty look but listens.

Lou then smiles wide at Sam, clearly thinking it was a good idea to get Dean to keep his mouth shut. She looks appreciative… immediately followed up by possibly turned on. She eyes him over obviously, making sure he gets it, and he grows uncomfortable. Sam clears his throat with awkward grace. He may feel weird with being objectified so openly but at the same time it didn't suck so bad. It's been a while that someone's looked at him like that and he didn't hate it.

"Fuck, seriously?" Lizzy complains as she reaches up into and rifles through one of the cabinets in the kitchen. "Bobby's out of whiskey!? How is that even possible?"

"It's not. Check the bottom cabinet… uh, under the counter," Dean adds in with confidence, knowing that Bobby keeps a few extras there.

Lizzy bends down at the waist, her ass sticking out as she looks, and Dean hums quietly from deep in the throat. Sam heard it, he knows he did, yet by the looks of it the girls didn't… thank God. His brother is really going for that great first impression it looks like. So classy.

And then the class level gets higher as Sam catches Dean's hand moving towards her jean-clad ass.

"Hey!" Lou shouts, a poker chip from their earlier and now long abandoned game sailing through the air and hitting Dean in the forehead.

"Hey yourself," he angrily returns, not understanding why she did such a thing.

"Hands to yourself, buddy," Lou warns strongly, a finger pointed straight at him. "We just met you. Don't know you from a hole in the wall. Try to make a good first impression, huh?"

"What was he doing?" Lizzy turns around, unopened bottle of scotch in her hand as she peers suspiciously at the new guy.

"A hand was headed for that ass of yours," Lou tells her.

"Yeah, and?" Lizzy wonders. "Did it ever occur to you that I was showing it off for a reason?" She then winks at Dean before heading back for her seat.

"Oh God, you are awesome," Dean tells her very quickly. He clearly does think so. She's a huge drinker, can hold her own, put on AC/DC without prompting, wears a t-shirt that lets him know she's a Zep fan, eats like a dude apparently, and she looks like she does. Even if Sam's sure that the comment was meant for his own inner dialogue only, Dean doesn't seem to care that the booze made it slip out.

Lizzy shares a huge smile of all pure white teeth. "You ain't so bad yourself, slick."

"Fucking puke," Lou comments with annoyance from her own seat with an eye roll.

Sam laughs immediately. From his brain to her mouth.

"Fuck off, Louie. So Dean," Lizzy starts as she cracks the cap of the new bottle and pours a second shot. "How'd you know about the secret stash?"

"Found it when I was fourteen," he smiles back at her, his dumb drunken look getting deeper by the second. "Stole a few bottles… back in my younger days."

"You guys have known Bobby  _that_  long?" Lou asks with surprise.

"Longer," Sam informs them, jumping in. "We first met Bobby, shit… twenty years ago, when I was about two."

"Two!?" Lizzy asks with bugged out eyes. "You've been in the life that long!?"

"For forever," Dean tells her, his smile actually fading slightly for the first time since they walked into Bobby's house that night.

"Well shit," Lizzy lets out in a sigh, sounding seriously affected by the thought of two people being involved in such a harsh and scary world since childhood.

"Bobby's been awesome to us," Dean lets out, his usually closed up style much more open with all the whiskey he's had. "Without him…" He then waves his hand through the air, finishing his statement wordlessly.

"Then that makes four of us," Lou quickly follows up with.

"Very true!" Lizzy happily agrees as she raises her shot glass to Dean. "So for round eight I say here's to Bobby; the grumpiest old bastard we've all been lucky enough to meet."

Dean clinks his glass with her and downs his eighth shot that night, flipping it over once done and sighing with overload. She blows out a breath.

"Maybe that should be your last, Dean," Sam suggests with a laugh from his seat, watching the surefire signs of Dean's overdoing it. He knows them well enough. Dean's been drinking since about twelve so he's seen it all several times over.

"Fuck that. This is war," Dean says to his brother with drooping eyelids. He and Lizzy have been in a shot for shot contest for a while now but Dean's the only one showing the effects of it. Lizzy is still standing as tall as ever. Check off another box on the list of similarities between the two of them. They both clearly drink like fish.

"Yeah, but I didn't start off with blood loss and two Vicodin after getting my arm sliced open," Lizzy comments quickly.

"What!?" Sam asks, eyes flying to Dean with shock. Painkillers and that much liquor? Is he nuts? "Dude!"

"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean says with exasperated annoyance. "In fact… I haven't felt this good in, in… fuck, in  _ever_."

"Ah, that's just the wonders of modern medicine talking right there," Lou laughs at Dean.

Dean then peers at Lizzy. "I don't know. Might be more than just that."

And that's when Sam makes a puking noise, and gets Lou laughing. Lizzy smiles over at Sam with his brotherly jab.

"Fuck off, Sam," Dean complains.

"You're like a chick flick!" Sam laughs loudly in return, Dean's anger delighting him more. "You hate chick flicks!"

Dean gives Sam a look of sheer hatred as he and Lou erupt in laughter. They quiet a bit when Lizzy drops down into Dean's lap, a very forward move considering how new they are to each other.

"Well I thought…" she starts, handing him a ninth shot that Sam missed her pouring. She sits sideways on his legs, one arm around his shoulder as she tries to make him feel better for the very sweet comment. "It was very nice of you to say."

"Oh yeah?" Dean asks, his smile returning as he looks up to her, his free arm coming around her lower back. Sam doesn't even recognize that look on Dean's face. He's never seen it from him before but he thinks it's something akin to wonder, adoration, maybe even affection. Dean doesn't have those kinds of emotions for women… does he?

"Yeah… and adorable."

"I am adorable, aren't I?" Dean smirks cockily to her.

"Yes," she laughs hard while clinking glasses with him. They down more whiskey and when done Dean just stares at her for a moment, something actually genuine and not at all fake or there to impress her for the short term. Sam's now getting worried about this whole situation.

Lizzy stands up off of his lap. "And I think your brother is right. Let's just call it a draw."

"Dean Winchester does  _not_  give up!" Dean slurs out, the last two shots in close succession doing that much more damage.

"Of course not!" Lizzy says back as she retakes her seat alone at the table. "We'll go with a mutual agreement to keep our hangovers tomorrow to a minimum… which are already gonna be some real wicked sons of bitches."

Dean just shrugs, not caring either way as he sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. If she wanted to keep drinking he would have.

"Thank you, Lizzy," Sam says with relief. She got him to agree to slow his roll. Holy shit.

"Don't mention it," Lizzy smiles.

"Yeah, anywhere past this is gets ugly sometimes."

"I'm right here," Dean complains to his brother, his eyes now closed. "You're ruining my game."

" _This_  was your game?" Lou asks with a loud giggle at his expense.

"You're kinda mean," Dean just grumbles and it's clear to all that he's all but done for the night.

"Just a regular meanie, I am," Lou jokes with a yawn as she glances at the clock on the old stove. "Four-thirty? How the fuck did that happen?"

"Mom always said time flies when you're having fun," Lizzy points out after draining the last of her beer. "And I for one had some fun tonight."

"So did I," Lou responds, sounding almost surprised. "But I'm done."

"Yeah, it's late," Sam agrees, the day of fighting off a demon combined with a busy week making him exhausted. He gets up from his seat while yawning himself.

"I'm gonna clean up a little here first," Lizzy mentions. "Just took that last shot so I figure I should enjoy the buzz before the pain of withdrawal sets in." She laughs and gets up. "You up for helping out, Dean?"

No response.

"Oh Deanie?" she sing-song calls to him and he still doesn't even flinch. His chin down to his chest and arms still cross, he's fast asleep while sitting in his kitchen chair. Lizzy gets a good laugh at this. "Wow!"

"Jesus Christ," Sam rolls his eyes. He walks to his passed out brother and nudges him hard. "Dean! Come on!"

"Mm," is the angry grumble he gets back.

"Bed time, man!" he tries again, this time hitting his arm harder.

"Fuck off," he nearly whispers without making any move to get up.

Lizzy and Lou laugh hard at the past-drunken man.

"Lemme try," Lizzy says with a wide grin, leaning down close to Dean's ear with a hand on his shoulder and speaking in a low, sexy tone. "Dean, I want you to come to bed with me."

Nothing.

"Please? I want you so bad. I'll let you do anything you want to me."

Still nothing. Sam's eyebrows fly up with the scene. With words like that coming from a girl like Lizzy, normally Dean would already be halfway up the stairs.

"Lou's coming too. You can have both of us," she taunts and when he still won't move, his breathing steady in a surefire sign of deep sleep, she gives in. "His loss."

"He'll never forgive himself," Sam huffs out. "Just leave him. He'll be fine."

"Alright, off to bed!" Lou announces as she heads off for the staircase, Sam following along. He's ready for some solid, quiet sleep.

Heading up the stairs behind her, Sam gets a good look at Lou from behind. He can't help but notice that she's got a lot going for her. And he has to admit to himself that she fits into his own personal type quite well. Blond hair, bright like Jessica's but straight, tops off a body that's petite and just perfect. She's worked to maintain the figure she has, one that's hard and tight with power hidden in there that only an athlete or a fellow trained hunter can see from a mile away. Sam appreciates that. He himself works hard to keep his body in top physical form, knowing his job and life depends on it, so he respects that she clearly feels the same.

Once she reaches the top step, she turns around to face him with a warm smile. Sam quickly shoots his sights to her eyes in the hopes that she'd miss his checking her out.

"Why Sam, were you just checking me out?" Lou smiles wide at the idea while looking at him with her hands on her hips.

"No," Sam denies instantly, his embarrassment already there.

"You should know that you're a terrible liar," she says while wagging her finger at him. Sam's cheeks heat up while she smiles, heading to walk around her to his and Dean's room.

"Night, Lou."

"Wait," she says to him, quickly moving to stand in his way and block his path down the hallway.

Sam just looks at her expectantly.

"You sure you just want to go to sleep right now?" she asks slickly, smile still wide and hopeful.

"Pretty damn sure." He already knows why she asks. The looks she was throwing him once she had some drinks in her was enough to let him know she wanted something out of him.

"Positive?" she keeps trying, looking up to his nearly two feet over her while she steps closer to him.

"Yes," Sam smiles kindly back. "Been a long week."

"Alright. Look, Sam," she starts, her hands landing on his chest lightly. "I'm gonna be honest here. I think you're hot and I've had the perfect amount to drink to be a whole lot of fun. I think it's best you come to my room… right now. You won't regret it, I promise."

"Wow," Sam amazes, jaw dropped and eyes wide with her honesty. "I, um… shit. Wow."

She just smiles at him and waits for his verdict, her bright blue eyes looking right at him and making Sam's defenses start to slip a bit. He wasn't ready for this. Not at all. He knew she was interested, she made no bones about that, but such a forward request was completely unexpected.

"Damn right, wow," Lou huffs a quiet laugh, her hands sliding up to snake around his neck. "Life is short as a hunter and I plan to live with zero regrets for that reason. Not getting you naked would definitely be one of them."

"I'm flattered," Sam says, stalling while looking for a way out of this. He's not a stranger fucker. She's beautiful and of course he wants to have sex with her. What red blooded man wouldn't? But they just met. He just lost Madison. He needs more time.

"You should be," she giggles, the sound soft and sexy and going straight to Sam's dick, making it that much tougher to say no. "When I want something, I go for it. Sam… I want you. Bad." She reaches up and pulls his head down close to her, her lips just inches from his. "So..."

And she very boldly kisses him.

Sam remembers this moment very clearly. He could always recall that first kiss, as lame as that sounds, and he longed for it all the time. Lou. God damn, she was the most forward woman he'd ever met. No girl had ever come after him like that before. She's bold and just so confident that he envied that of her. He's never been that kind of person.

Giving in just a bit, his hands landing on her hips as he continues to kiss her right back, he prepares for the disappointed look he recalls her giving him when he backs off and goes to his own room for the night. She hated him for that move and, hind sight being what it is, he regrets that gentlemanly move horribly.

But for now, he slides his tongue along hers and enjoys that fact that he gets to feel this, relive this all over again. God, she feels so good…

"Lizzy? Jesus… what the fuck are you doing?"

It's Dean's groggy voice that pulls the two away from each other. He doesn't remember this part of his memory.

"What…. Come on, put that away," they can hear Dean strongly tell his new acquaintance with a frightened and suddenly sober voice from the kitchen where he's supposed to be passed out and Lizzy's supposed to be cleaning. That's how it went the first time. "No… Lizzy! Shit, stop it! Lizzy! Stop!"

Sam's already halfway down the staircase with Lou hot on his heels when Dean can be heard struggling before something heavy hits the floor.

He comes to a halt in the doorway when he gets a good look at the scene in front of him. His new friend is hunched over on the floor with her back to him. Dean's body is splayed out and unmoving on the linoleum, his arms and legs at all angles. He has his head turned to the side in Sam's direction, his green eyes lifeless as they stare out at nothing at all.

He's dead.

"Dean!?" Sam panics immediately. He turns his attention to Lizzy. "What did you do!?"

"No," Lou's breath catches in her throat as she peeks around Sam to get a look at whatever is happening. When she registers what's going on she can't breathe. "Lizard! Holy shit! Why the hell did you do that!?"

"Dean!" Sam shouts his brother's voice in a demand, as if saying it again would make him suddenly resurrect.

Lizzy turns her head sharply to look over her shoulder, smiling at Sam as she does. She then turns back to look at Dean one more time before slowly pulling the large butcher knife out of his chest.

"Who are you!?" Lou rages, her feet making a swift path for Lizzy before she can think twice as she knows this can't be her best friend. She doesn't get very far.

Lizzy shoots her hand out to the side and Lou flies airborne across the room. She lands somewhere in the living room with a crash, her body sounding like it collides hard with some furniture, and then it's silent. Sam can only hope she's still alive and only unmoving because she hit her head.

"Get the fuck out of her!" Sam shouts, having pieced it all together quickly. Lizzy's body stands up tall and turns to face Sam, her eyes black as night.

"No one's in me, Sammy-I-Am. It's just me," Lizzy says with innocence and smiles wide, bloody knife in hand as her black eyes return to their dark brown.

"No it's not," Sam grits out, reaching to the nearby random end table Bobby has by the doorway he stands in, between the study and the kitchen. Knowing the old hunter like he does, Sam's willing to bet there's at least some form of weapon in one of the drawers, or under the stack of strewn about papers on top of it. "You're not Lizzy."

"You seem real sure of that," her voice cockily taunts. "But you don't know me from a fucking hole in the wall. We just met."

Sam's stomach churns with nausea as Lizzy brings the knife up and licks Dean's blood off of the shiny metal.

"Mm," she hums with enjoyment. "The slutty guys always do taste best. I wonder why that is…"

"You're not Lizzy," Sam repeats, not willing to possibly believe it.

"What the hell do you care, Jolly Green? I just did you a favor. You're free. Ding dong the overbearing brother is gone."

Sam's hand wraps around the cold steel of what he knows is a handgun from inside the table drawer and his heart aches. He knows what he has to do but he doesn't want to. He's not sure he can.

"Lizzy," Sam calmly calls as he aims the gun at his friend with both hands, his grip shaking a little. "Drop the knife."

Lizzy laughs something deep and evil. It's not the usual, lighthearted laugh he knows from her. It's dark and cackling. "Fuck off, Sam. You know you can't hurt me with that thing."

When Lizzy takes a step forward towards him, Sam reacts. She pulls the trigger three times, all three bullets hitting her to the slight left of her chest. Sam's a Marine-trained warrior. He knows he got her in the heart.

"Fuck, I take it back," Lizzy complains with discomfort. "That  _did_  hurt. Won't kill me but, fucking-A… that actually hurt." She rubs at her unbleeding chest with a wince of pain in her expression.

"Why would you kill him like that?" Sam asks, his internal anguish clear as day with his shaking and slumping body language. He keeps the gun on Lizzy, knowing it's worthless, as shock starts to settle into his overworked brain.

She shrugs. "Felt like a fun idea at the time."

"What!?"

"Who cares!?" Lizzy bellows out, anger suddenly taking over her emotions. "I don't know him from the next random dude with shitty pick-up lines! I don't know you either!"

"Yes you do!" Sam shouts right back, furious. "Lizzy! You love him! You love Dean!"

"Love him!?" she scoffs at the idea. "I just met him He doesn't mean jack to me."

"Yeah, he does. You've loved him for so long… you… I think…" And Sam pauses. This timeline is all out of whack. Dean and Lizzy aren't together. At this point, when he and Dean walked into Bobby's to find two women staying with him, they had just met each other. But he knows that Dean and Lizzy have been together for a while now. He knows what becomes of them. This is all off.

Shit. Sam's still in the cage. This is Lucifer trying to dismantle one of his best memories yet again.

But for the first time in years, and really it's been  _years_ , his torture master fucked up. He never took away his current knowledge.

"Yeah, you're right," Sam lowers his gun and keeps to a calmer, much more relaxed attitude. "Fuck Dean."

"What?" Lizzy asks, her face dropping and brown eyes wide with surprise.

"I mean, who gives a shit about Dean. He just holds me back. You're right," Sam continues on, changing it all up on Lucifer. "And we just met you. Before now I just thought you two were just a couple of desperate sluts. Ha, you know what?"

Sam walks into the living room until he sees Lou struggling to get out from under a bookcase that's fallen onto her legs.

"I'm gonna give you a hand, Lizzy," Sam smiles at Lizzy and aims. He shoots Lou right in the temple, killing her instantly. He then turns back to Lizzy with a grin. "Huh. That felt surprisingly good."

Lizzy just stares at Sam with sheer confusion.

"So what now?" Sam pries on. "Wanna off the old man too?" He walks to leave the kitchen and head up the stairs but when he walks through the doorway he find himself smack in the middle of his hell-made, stone walled prison cell.

"Where did I go wrong?" Sam hears the voice of half-brother and turns sharply around to see Adam standing by the cell's metal barred door.

"Adam?"

"Close but no," he smirks back.

"Michael," Sam immediately figures out, his heart dropping with the thought.

"Same question." Adam's eyes stare at him blankly.

Sam sighs when he realizes how fucked up his day is about to get. "Lizzy would never kill Dean. She'd never say they were nothing, even that night they met… even if possessed. And I remembered what they became after this night."

Michael nods. "I knew it. Guess having rode you for a while has served Lucifer well when using cerebral torture."

"You don't know the half of it," Sam says, sitting down in the corner of the cell he always picks, head leaning back onto the cold stones and knees bent up with arms resting on them.

"I'm ok with that, however," Michael tells Sam, stepping closer to him. "Lucifer was always the more creative of the two of us." He lightning quick bends down and grabs Sam by the throat hard and raises him up and off of his feet. "I've always been more of the physical, get-blood-on-my-hands type."

When Michael reaches his hands deep within Sam's gut he knows what he says is true.

"Guh… uh…" Sam gasps for air, the sheer burn and strength of the pain making him unable to breathe.

"It's about time the two of us swapped places," Michael smiles wide with Adam's face. "I've been dying to get my hands on the guy that single-handedly dismantled the word of my father like some arrogant, pompous gnat." Ripping Sam's internal organs right from his body and dropping them onto the cement floor with a sickly splat, he smiles even wider. "I'm going to make sure you regret all of it."

* * *

 


	30. November 13th

* * *

"Bren!?" Lizzy call out as she follows the toddler down the hallway of his house. He runs a bit unevenly but he can be quick on his feet after some months of practice. "Where do you think you're going?" She stands tall with her hands on her hips, mocking an upset look with him.

Brennan simply laughs out loudly before continuing on, running into the living room away from her. He's gotten a pretty good game of chase going on with her at this point and even if he is only about a year and a half old he's good at getting what he wants. He's adorable and already has Lizzy wrapped around his tiny finger.

"Hey! Come back here!" Lizzy says to him as she jogs down the hall. When she reaches the living room she finds the little blond haired guy standing in the corner of the room behind an upholstered chair, his hands covering his eyes. Lizzy has come to figure out that when he does that, when he puts his hands over his eyes, he's hidden from everyone.

"Now where did he just go?" she plays some more, looking under the couch cushions. "Where did Brennan go?" She continues to act as if she's looking around the room.

Suddenly Brennan squeals a laugh and runs straight for her.

"There he is!" she shouts happily with a bright smile and bends down when he comes at her. She picks him up swiftly and raises him overhead, his giggling making her laugh with him. "Holy crap, you are too stinking cute, you know that?"

And it's true. His blonde hair, his cute little smile, his big happy eyes… he's going to be a heartbreaker one day, Lizzy's pretty sure.

The doorbell rings and she pauses, giving Brennan a look of overacted surprise.

"Who is that?" she wonders to him as she perches him onto her hip and walks for the door. "I bet I know who it is." Pulling the door open she smiles even wider with the expected visitor. "It's Dean!"

"Hey," he grins a bit with her excited attitude.

"And it's Cassie!" she says with equal excitement, putting Brennan down onto his feet so he can greet the dog. She brought Cass over to Jenny and Jim's place earlier in the week to see if the little boy would like him. She knew her pup was going to be awesome with Brennan already. Luckily the kid liked Cass just as much as Cass liked him.

"Puh-pee," Brennan giggles as he reaches to touch Cass' face and Lizzy's impressed.

"Shit, he remembered."

"Smart kid," Dean responds, stepping through the door and kissing Lizzy hello quickly. "I decided I don't like when you're out of the house early on Saturdays.

"And why is that?"

"No morning sex to help cure a hangover," he complains a bit.

"Oh no!" she feigns concern before grinning at him. "At least you're in time for lunch. That should make you feel better."

"Always," Dean tells her. "Come on, Cass."

Dean heads to the back of the house to let the dog out into the fenced in backyard. He opens the sliding kitchen door and looks back down the hallway to see Cass didn't listen. He's too preoccupied with licking Brennan face as the boy giggles.

"Ok, that's just God damned adorable," Lizzy says to Dean as she watches.

He stays silent and looks at how well Cass treats Brennan, playing with him but at the same time seeming to understand the boy is smaller than him and he has to be careful.

"Alright, Cass. Let's go," Dean tries again after a few minutes and Cass listens, running for the back door. Dean closes the slider behind him.

"Lunch time," Lizzy tells Brennan as she picks him up. Walking into the kitchen, she puts him into his highchair and straps him in. She turns to Dean. "Hey," she calls to him while tossing over a canister of wet-wipes. "Wanna wipe down the dog drool before he eats?"

Dean catches the wipes and freezes for a minute with the request. "Uh…"

Lizzy smiles with his hesitance. "He's not made of glass, Dean. You can go near him."

"Yeah…ok…" he answers while walking over to Brennan. As the toddler looks up to him, he pops the top and pulls out a wipe, smelling the strong odor of it. "Whoa. This is safe for little kids?"

"Well, considering they have babies on the label and they're called  _baby_ wipes, I'd say yeah," she makes fun a bit.

"They smell like straight chemicals," he complains.

"You want me to do it?" she asks as she pulls out a cutting board and dull knife.

"Nah, I got it," he practically whines as he leans down to Brennan's level. "Come here, squirt."

As Lizzy slices up half a banana she watches with amusement as Brennan squirms away from Dean's hand and whines as her husband tries to clean up his face.

"Dude, suck it up," Dean calmly tells Brennan without an actual hint of annoyance. "Almost done."

"Don't forget his hands. He pretty much eats exclusively with them."

"Yeah yeah," he complains back, taking up each of Brennan's small hands to rid them of dog germs. "Alright. Good and clean. Wasn't so bad, right?"

Brennan just looks up at Dean with curiosity.

"Ok, starting with bananas," Lizzy says as she scoops up the slices and drops them onto the highchair tray. "Mm, mm."

"Na-na," Brennan tries to say as he picks one up and takes a hefty bite, his mouth full in seconds. "Na-na!" he repeats as he reaches up to Lizzy with his half eaten slice.

"Aww, look honey. He eats just like you," Lizzy jokes when the toddle dives into his food hard.

"Yeah, he eats like a real man," Dean comments back, taking a seat at the kitchen island and watching her.

"Well manly men, what do we say about grilled cheese for a main course?"

"Works for me," Dean answers back. "So when are Jenny and Jim coming back?"

"Late," she explains. "The wedding is down the Cape and she said to expect them back after ten tonight."

"Damn, alright," Dean complains a bit.

"So we hang out here instead of home and eat someone else's food. No big deal," she reminds him as she gets out bread, butter, and cheese.

"Yeah, but you won't be drinking with me if you're babysitting," Dean says as he gets up from his stool and walks to the refrigerator. As he looks through the contents Lizzy stays quiet, a smirk on her lips as she waits for the reaction. "What is this shit?"

"Jim and Jenny don't drink that much anymore," Lizzy says, buttering bread, knowing he's just discovered that the fridge is booze-free. "They tend to want to stay sober while caring for their one and a half year old."

"Boring," Dean comments while dragging his feet back to his seat. "Maybe I'll take Cass for a walk..."

"Or you could not drink for one day," Lizzy suggests when he starts planning a liquor run while assembling the sandwiches to be put in the heating up frying pan.

"Why would I do that?"

"To give me yet another reason to be proud of you."

"Shit," Dean complains with her guilt trip she's lying on thick as he turns to look over to Brennan in his chair. The little boy smiles wide when he has some attention and holds out a banana slice in Dean's direction, reaching to him with all his might.

"Just speaking my mind," Lizzy tells him as she drops the sandwiches into the hot pan and the bread begins to sizzle. "I think one day off of drinking wouldn't be a bad thing. Hell, your liver might send you flowers and a card in thanks."

"You're fucking weird," Dean tells her as he walks to Brennan, bending down and letting the kid pop the banana slice into his mouth. "Mm!" he says loudly and Brennan laughs out loud when Dean starts chewing exaggeratedly.

As Lizzy cooks she keeps a keen eye on the other two boys in the room, curious to watch their interactions. Dean and Brennan only met once very briefly before going out to dinner with Jenny and Jim and she's dying to see Dean in this capacity. It'll be good to know how he is with kids for their future.

"Now he's gonna feed you all his bananas instead of eat them himself," Lizzy comments from the stove. Just as she finishes warning him Brennan holds out another piece of fruit for Dean. "Like I said."

"Great," he complains as he isn't much of a banana fan yet he leans down again and lets the kid feed him another chunk. He purposefully chews loudly and Brennan once more erupts with laughter. "What the hell was Jim talking about? This kid business is easy."

"Dude, he hasn't even cried yet!" Lizzy points out. "Or thrown a tantrum… or had a single poopy diaper."

"Which will be all on you!" Dean says with a fake bright and happy tone while looking down to Brennan, already trying to feed him his last banana slice. Dean happily takes it and with a full mouth says to her, "I eat bananas, that's my job. You change the diapers."

"How is that fair!?" Lizzy has to wonder loudly as Dean looks to Brennan with big wide eyes while chewing obnoxiously. As the little boy laughs Lizzy just tries to stop her grin so Dean doesn't know he's already won this battle.

* * *

Dean and Lizzy spend a whole hour outside in the backyard with Brennan and Cass. Lizzy helped Brennan down the slide a couple dozen times and put him in the baby-swing on his swing set to push him for a good while. As he swung the little boy watched Dean toss around the tennis ball with Cass and when he was over the swing Lizzy let him down and he ran to join the fun. Dean tried his best to show Brennan how to throw the ball for the dog, actually getting him to toss it a few feet a couple times. He ran after the pet for a while, trying to pull his tail and getting knocked down every now and then, but all in all Brennan had a very happy, fun-filled afternoon.

And then he crashed.

Brennan suddenly decided he was done for at one point and sat down right where he was standing on the grass. Lizzy knew what was up immediately and the instant she picked him up from the ground he had his head resting on her shoulder, his arms hanging loose and slack with the exhaustion of the first half of his day.

"Looks like we're too much fun for this little guy," Lizzy laughs a bit as she turns, giving Dean a view of his relaxed and tired face.

"He looks like you after a night with me," he winks to her quickly.

"Such a cocky ass," she rolls her eyes. "I'm gonna put him down for a much needed nap. Meet you on the couch?"

"Sounds good."

Dean brings Cass inside and settles onto the couch, turning on the last quarter of the Chief's game before the Patriot game starts at 4:00. He knows the deal. It's Sunday.

A couple minutes later and Lizzy drops down next to him, letting him bring an arm around her shoulders while she places a bowl of popcorn between them.

"She buys the good stuff," Lizzy grins as she eats a few kernels.

"You're obsessed," he tells her, knowing how insane she is about popcorn, especially the good stuff… also known as Smartfood.

"Nope, just addicted," she laughs. "Score?"

"Chiefs are down twelve."

"Don't you ever get tired of rooting for a loser team?"

"Don't you ever get tired of having a pretty-boy underwear model as a quarterback?"

"Hell no!" she instantly defends. "Brady is not only the best fucking QB in the league with three, count 'em, three rings to his name, but he's just fun to look at. Win-win for me," she tells him. "Plus… pretty-boy underwear model? Take it easy."

"Why should I?"

She looks at him with surprise. "Because  _you_  look like a pretty-boy underwear model."

"Fuck off," Dean spits back at her with disgust.

"You do!" she tells him truthfully.

"L…."

"Relax, alright?" she says with exasperation. "It was a compliment. Calvin would be lucky to have those buns of steel in his undies."

"Weirdo." Dean grabs a handful of popcorn and moves on. "So'd the kid give you a hard time?"

"No way!" she laughs. "I put him in his crib and that was all I had to do. He just laid right down and I swear he actually fell asleep before his head hit the mattress. Oh, and you have to see him asleep! You think he's adorable awake, oh my God! Too fucking cute!"

"This was a trap, wasn't it?" Dean starts to think aloud with her reaction to the child.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Jenny knew this is what would happen," Dean explains himself. "She knew you'd get like this."

"And what am I like, Hot Shot?" Lizzy challenges.

"All mothery."

"And here I was thinking I was only getting all babysittery…"

"Shut up, you know what I mean. And I'm right, aren't I? You're getting that itch, aren't you?"

Looking at him for a beat, Lizzy turns back to the TV and grabs some more popcorn. "Maybe…" she quietly responds, begrudgingly admitting he's right.

"I knew it," Dean confidently brags.

"And what about you?" she tries right back, knowing that after spending some time with Brennan that he would be affected too.

Dean pauses and thinks for a second. "It's been fun. I like the little dude. He seems like a good guy."

"Yeah, great," she rolls her eyes. Sometimes she hates that it's like pulling teeth to get him to tell the truth. "But doesn't he make you want one of your own?"

"Jesus, I don't know… I'm a guy, L. It doesn't work the same."

"Bullshit."

"It's true."

"You're a liar," she smiles at him, moving the bowl of popcorn to the coffee table. "You want a kid more after today." Lizzy bites her lip with mischief as she gets on top of him. Pushing him by the upper chest she gets him to lay on his back across the couch and she straddles his hips. "And you totally want me to give you one."

"What is this, like, entrapment or something?" he calls her out immediately, his hands already grabbing her thighs.

"Why?" she grins, leaning forward and kissing him slowly, her lips dragging languidly over his. She keeps their lips connected and in a low voice asks, "Is it working?"

"Maybe," he kisses her again. "But you're freaking me out a little." He keeps his even tone in place despite his slight worry.

"Why's that?" she wonders between kisses.

"You didn't… like, stop taking the pill or something, did you?"

"No," she giggles quietly. "That's a decision for both of us." She leans in and presses her lips to his neck once. "But maybe we could practice for when I do go off of them."

"No fucking problem." He pulls her into a very eager kiss. "Oh my God, I'm actually gonna fuck the babysitter."

Lizzy giggles with his observation, knowing full well that many a porno has been made based on the very premise.

"What time are his parents getting back again?" Dean playfully asks mid-full-blown make out session.

"Soon," she plays into it, grabbing his hands and placing them on her stomach beneath her shirt. "We better get going."

Full grin of excitement in place and he sends her shirt over her head. Just as he buries his face between her breasts, the baby monitor on the end table fills the room with Brennan's sudden crying.

"Shit," Lizzy swears under her breath with the interrupting sound.

"He's fine," Dean brushes off with a muffled tone as he never backs away and reaches behind her to unclasp her bra. Brennan's crying gets louder.

"No, he's not," she sighs and pushes Dean away. "I gotta go get him."

"Aw, come on," Dean whines while watching her get up and reach for her shirt on the floor.

"Sorry, but duty calls," she laughs quietly. "He only slept for about ten minutes. He should still be tired so I just have to get him back to sleep."

"Hey, keep the shirt off," Dean suggests as he gets up hastily. "If I can get him back to sleep then this," he gestures to her and then the couch. "Continues."

With wide eyes she just stares at him for a beat. "Ah, sure! Ok!"

"Be right back," he says, starting to walk past her. He pauses, backtracks the couple steps he already covered, leaves a promising kiss on her lips, and then books it up the stairs.

"Well I'll be damned," Lizzy smiles to herself and takes a seat on the couch again. That was not something she saw coming.

Lizzy grabs the popcorn bowl and digs in with only her bra on her upper half. As she finally starts to pay attention to the pregame show a slow smile spreads across her face when she can hear Dean talking to Brennan through the monitor that he clearly doesn't realize is still on.

_Brennan, dude. What the hell, man?_

Laughing quietly to herself when she can already tell where this conversation is going, she mutes the TV and sits back as the rustling in the upstairs room makes her assumes he's picking the little boy up. Brennan's crying starts to subside instantly.

_We are gonna have to have a serious talk about this. Clearly Jim hasn't explained to you what a cockblock is._

"Fucking ridiculous," she whispers to herself with amusement as she listens in.

_You see, when mommies and daddies get alone time they want to… well, they want to have sex. I know you don't know what that is yet but trust me buddy, it's awesome. And the only time they get to have sex is when you're asleep. Now granted, I ain't your dad, but right now you're blocking me from logging in some quality time with Lizzy. Man to man, I gotta tell you Bren, this isn't good form. So what's the deal, huh? You hungry? You need a new diaper? Oh God, I hope that's not it…_

Some more rustling as he checks, Brennan's crying calming to quiet sounds of discontent now that's he's being held and spoken to.

_A big N-O on that thankfully. Alright, so… what? What's the problem?_

And then it's quiet. Lizzy strains her ears to hear more.

_Ah, I see how it is. You just wanted some attention. Smart man. You know, when I cry, and don't go telling people I do that because I'll deny it and call you a little liar, I get attention from my favorite lady too. Sorry you're stuck with me this time around. I'd rather have the hot chick than a guy myself._

Shaking her head she keeps her grin in place. He's just too funny sometimes. As Dean's voice keeps getting quieter and louder she knows he's pacing around the room with Brennan in his arms. He's good, she has to admit it. He's a little more of a natural than she's expected actually.

_Damn it. You know how to play that cute card well, you know that? Probably have all the ladies at the grocery store stopping to check you out. Huh?_

Brennan's voice is heard quietly but Lizzy can't make out if he's actually trying to say anything. She can tell that he's still tired and that if Dean plays his cards right he can get the kid back to sleep.

 _Well, here's the deal; I got Lizzy downstairs ready to go. And I mean,_ ready _to go. For some reason this whole kid crap goes right to her head and then right between legs if you know what I mean._

"Oh my God," she closes her eyes, surprised but at the same time not really surprised at all with the language he uses with the little boy. Luckily Brennan's still too young to retain any of this.

_So why don't you do me a solid here and head back to sleep. That way I can go back down to the living room and abuse that couch of yours. What do you say?_

Lizzy sighs with his antics but can't deny that she's loving every second of it.

After a while of near silence, Brennan's voice barely heard as he calms and starts to drift off, she laughs quietly when she hears Dean humming. She knows that tune. It's 'Sandman'. Wise choice, even if it's a metal song.

Humming the guitar riff several times, she can hear Dean stop and then it's totally silent. It worked.

A few minutes later and Dean's pounding his feet down the stairs and rushing back into the living room.

"Back to sleep," he says with a bright smile as he makes his way swiftly to the couch. Pulling her by the legs, he gets Lizzy lying down on her back on the couch before getting on top of her. "I believe we had a deal," he reminds her while taking the bowl out of her hands and placing it on the coffee table once more.

"That we did," she laughs back. "Nice job up there."

"Thanks," he answers back, instantly attacking her neck with his mouth. Having to wait while taking care of Brennan has made him impatient.

And just to tease him Lizzy starts to hum 'Sandman'.

Dean picks up his head and looks down to her grinning face. When it dawns on him he closes his eyes with a sigh and hangs his head. "The monitor?"

"Oh yeah," she laughs at him.

"Fantastic," he says with pure sarcasm.

"Oh don't worry," she assures as her arms come around his neck. "It was cute to hear you explain cockblocking to a one year old."

"Someone had to tell him he was killing the mood."

"Well you saved it by getting him back to sleep," she tells him, pulling him in and kissing him again before getting right back into the fun little role playing moment they'd started a few minutes ago. "Now let's hurry up. His parents could be home any minute and I don't want them to find me with my boyfriend naked on their couch."

"Wouldn't that be terrible," he smirks right back, kissing her again.

* * *

"Hey!" Lizzy brightly greets when Jenny and Jim walk through the side door of the house and into their kitchen around ten-thirty that night.

"Hi," Jenny smiles right back and walks over the to the kitchen island where Dean is sitting at a stool and Lizzy is standing on the other side. "Looks like you two had some fun while babysitting."

"We did but your dry household bullshit doesn't fly with us, Jen," Dean tells her, a bottle of beer in each of their hands. After dinner Dean walked Cass home before driving back over, stopping to pick up a twelve of Lizzy's favorite to get her to agree to have a few with him. He stayed sober during the day. That was good enough for him. He also grabbed another twelve of beer he planned to leave for Jim as he felt bad for the guy. Dean's noticed he likes to have a few here and there and has a sneaking suspicion it's Jenny that keeps the booze out of the house.

"Doesn't fly with me either," Jim says in a half-volume voice as he walks by with both his and Jenny's coats in hand and heads to hang them up. He confirms Dean's suspicions.

Jenny just rolls her eyes. "God forbid I try and keep a healthy household for our children."

"Child, Jen! We have one!" Jim yells and reminds her.

"Soon to be children if I have my way!" Jenny yells right back. Clearly the disagreement is still going. Jenny turns her attention to back to her two babysitters. "So how was he?"

"Awesome," Lizzy smiles wide. "He was great. Only got fussy a little once when I put him down for a nap but Dean got him right back to sleep."

Turning wide eyes to look at Dean with near shock, Jenny asks, "Really?"

"Yeah, I can handle your little brat believe it or not," Dean winks at her, letting her know her patronizingly surprised reaction doesn't faze him.

"Well I'll be damned."

"How'd he eat?" Jim asks, walking back into the room and heading straight for the refrigerator.

"Like a freakin' champ," Lizzy laughs a bit. "He's worse than my husband."

"Sounds about right," Jim tells her as he pulls a beer from the fridge and cracks it immediately. He takes a sip and lets out a long, satisfied sigh. "Ah. Beer. So good."

"Amen," Dean jokes and tips his own bottle to Jim before taking a huge sip himself.

"We gave him bananas and some grilled cheese for lunch," Lizzy starts to explain their day. "Then some animal crackers for a snack and he had some of the pizza we ordered for dinner along with more banana. Kid loves bananas."

"He does," Jenny responds instantly.

"We also went outside for an hour and he crashed for a while after that. After dinner we did bath time and he played with some toys for a bit. Then he was done."

"Ha, he fell asleep on top of that plastic record player toy…" Dean starts before Lizzy dives right back in with way too much glee.

"Oh yeah!" Lizzy laughs as she takes out her phone and pulls up the photo of him she took. "He looked like a passed out drunk. It was so fucking cute."

"Works for me," Jenny smiles as she looks at the picture of her son sleeping on his toy. "What time did he go down for good?"

"About eight-thirty?" Dean recalls, asking for Lizzy to confirm he remembered correctly. She nods and agrees.

"Well alright," Jim nods. "You guys did well."

"We held our own," Lizzy answers back.

"What do you say we head out back," Jim suggests. "I'm starving. I'll fire up the grill, get the fire pit going?"

Dean stands up immediately. "Hell yeah, man. That sounds awesome."

"Alright, you grab the beers and I'll get everything started," Jim smiles wide. "I have some brats in the freezer that I can cook up."

"Fucking done," Dean says with matching excitement as he pulls the beers out of the fridge and heads out back after Jim.

"Guess we're staying a little longer," Lizzy huffs with surprise at how fast Dean was willing to stick around. Then again beer and food were on the table. He's too easy sometimes.

"Looks like it," Jenny agrees as she kicks out of her heels. She then moves to grab a beer for herself because, when in Rome… "So did it work?"

"Did what work?" Lizzy wonders.

"Babysitting," she responds with high hopes. "Being around a baby all day, did it work?"

Lizzy just stares at her friend, not really putting together what Jenny is telling her.

"Oh come on!" Jenny exasperatedly sighs as she opens her beer and leans her elbows onto the counter next to Lizzy. "Did you really think I asked you to watch Brennan because you were the only ones around? Jim's mother was pissed I didn't ask her. I had to promise she could come over tomorrow for the day just to get her off my ass."

"You asked me on purpose?"

"Yep," Jenny grins wide and takes a celebratory sip of beer.

"You suck," Lizzy shakes her head when she gets it. "That's evil… and I  _know_  what evil is!"

"Shut up," Jenny says and nudges her friend. "So… how'd he hold up?"

Lizzy glances through the sliding glass doors at her husband as he's putting the beers he grabbed into a cooler. She smiles a bit as she thinks the day over.

"He did well."

"I knew it!" Jenny cheers happily. "And I knew that hot man was a fucking softy deep down in there. He's total dad material."

Lizzy huffs her disbelief over her conniving friend's ways.

"That was never a question for me, Jenny. I've always known Dean's gonna make a great dad someday."

"Hopefully I got him thinking about it now, though!" She raises her eyebrows playfully.

"Jenny, Jesus," Lizzy sighs, her face falling. "We're not… we aren't where we need to be yet. For all of that. You gotta calm down and be patient. Sam's death… ah." She swallows hard. "It's been hard, still is. We need time because right now… we wouldn't be at our best."

Staying silent for a beat, Jenny begins to think she pushed way too hard. "I'm sorry, Liz…"

"Don't be," she says, her smile returning. "You meant well and I know that."

"Good," Jenny sighs in relief.

"And… I can tell you that… we have talked about kids. We do want that. Just, you know, give us some more time." Lizzy takes a sip of beer and starts for the sliding door. "Plus, I'm not ready to stop drinking just yet anyways."

"Uh, that's the worst part," Jenny laughs a bit in understanding as they head outside.

"I'm not doing that shit," Dean says as he stands next to Jim, trying to get the charcoal going.

"It's a game of sheer skill, Dean," Jim rebuts him, lighting a long match. "It's not as easy as it looks."

"Golf's for douche bags who wear dumbass clothes and just want to get away from their wives for a day… no offence, Jen."

"None taken," she responds easily. "I don't get it either."

"You didn't mean the wife diss but you meant the douche bag comment?" Jim challenges Dean.

"Buddy, I calls 'em like I sees 'em."

"Ok wiseass. You think golf's so easy then I dare to play me," Jim challenges.

"Whacking a little ball around a giant lawn? I'd embarrass you," Dean boasts. With his past life his hand eye is pretty damn strong.

"I got some old clubs. I'm a couple inches shorter than you but you should be able to get by. Next Sunday you're coming with."

Dean just stares at the guy, disbelieving that the game could be so hard or fun. That and the idea of himself golfing… yuck. Lame. Winchesters don't golf. "Nah, man…"

"Beers are on me if you give it a go."

At this offer from Jim Dean's ears perk up.

"You drink while playing?"

"That's half the point!" Jim laughs right back. "By the eighteenth hole you should be solidly buzzed."

Thinking it over quickly, Dean glances to Lizzy. She gives him a face, silently saying to him 'what the hell?'

"Alright," Dean agrees and shakes Jim's hand. "You're going down."

"Man, you are so clueless," Jim laughs in return. He looks back at Lizzy. "Don't be surprised when Dean comes home next weekend with a bruised ego and a pissed off attitude."

"I'll be ready with a bottle of bourbon," she jokes.

Lizzy watches as Dean continues on his easy conversations and looks like he's actually having a good time. Hell, he looks like he's talking with an old friend.

A day of babysitting and a night of barbequing… well aren't they just a quaint little couple of normal ass people.

* * *

 


	31. December 2nd

* * *

Is there anything that smells better than exhaust and motor oil in the morning?

To Dean Winchester, no there isn't.

Starting his third week of work at EB Auto Service, Dean's actually a bit surprised by how much he looked forward to this Monday morning. He didn't hate getting up early, getting dressed, and getting to work on time. He also didn't mind giving up drinking until later in the day when he got home. Work was distracting enough to keep him occupied and not jonesing for a buzz. He could avoid thinking about life and about sadness and about Sam if he was busy working on cars.

"Ellis," Dean greets happily as he passes the older man behind the front desk. Lizzy's old friend doesn't really do the manual labor so much anymore, especially when the Parkinson's started to really take away his dexterity, but he still runs the shop and does the paperwork… and keeps his younger employees in line as many of them are very young or, like in Dean's case, young at heart.

"Morning Dean," his rough, older voice says in return without looking up from his work.

"What'd you got for me today?" Dean asks, leaning his elbows on the high counter and peering down at the schedule with high hopes.

"Well, I have an oil change at ten-thirty you can do…"

"Come on, Ellis… gimme something good!" Dean asks of his boss, not wanting the lame, everyday crap jobs. He wants to get dirty.

"Don't have much but basic maintenance today, kid. Sorry," Ellis smiles, loving that Dean actually wants to get down and do some big work. He's always up for the challenge, always.

"Whatever," Dean smirks, only giving the guy a hard time for fun. His cell phone rings in his pocket and he pulls it out. He assumes he knows who it is. "My buddy Jim told me his car is making a weird clinking sound. Told him to come in today. You got a time for him?"

"Um, one o'clock is free," Ellis tells him after glancing at the schedule, a grin still in place as his new guy is already bringing him in business.

"Nice, he can come during his lunch break from work. What's going on, dude," Dean greets easily as he answers the call.

"Dean?" an unfamiliar voice asks from the other end.

"Ah, yeah. Who's this?"

"It's Mike Lewis," the voice says to him. "I met you at the car show a few months back."

Dean thinks quickly. "Oh yeah, right. You were the accountant. You're the guy who had the Impala growing up. You gave me your card."

"That's me."

"What's happening?"

"Well, I found it."

"You found a '67?" Dean asks with surprise. That's not an easy feat. This particular make, model and year is a rarity these days, especially when searching for a four door version with a 427. Dean's almost shocked he could come up with one at all. His Baby is nearly a one of a kind at this point.

"I honestly did," he laughs with Dean's surprise. "She's a bit of a clunker with the shape she's in but she has plenty of potential under all the wear."

"Wow, congrats, man."

"Thanks," Mike says in return. "And here is where you come in. You still interested in restoration work?"

"Are you serious!?" Dean asks, wide eyes now on Ellis as he mimes for a paper and pen.

"Very," Mike assures him. "I saw the care you've shown your own Impala and I know I can trust you. I want to give my business to someone who can not only handle it but do the work with love."

"Jesus," Dean huffs as he writes on the piece of paper once he gets it. He then slides it over to Ellis.

_You still want to get into the classic car restoration biz?_

Look on Ellis' face when he stares back at Dean once he's read the question lets him know the answer instantly.

"I'm working at a shop these days," Dean starts to explain to Mike. "EB Auto in Quincy. When can you bring her by?"

"I can have her towed down this afternoon."

"Towed, huh?" Dean laments. "Yikes."

"Like I said, clunker as of right now," Mike laughs. "This is a big job, Dean. You sure you want it?"

"Trust me, bring it," Dean answers back with true excitement. "I'll be on the lookout for you later. I'll find a spot for her out in the lot. You have a cover?"

"Not yet."

"That's fine. I got you, don't worry," Dean says back. "See you later today, Mike."

"Looking forward to it."

Dean hangs up and smiles wide at Ellis.

"What just happened?" Ellis questions him.

"Some guy I met at a car show just found himself a 1967 Chevy Impala that needs a total overhaul," Dean explains, knowing he's about to make the old man a very happy person. "He told me he wanted me to do it."

"He must have seen your car."

"Sure did. It'll be here this afternoon. We gotta find a place for it. It's not running so it'll probably be here for a while."

"Did you just get me two new clients in the matter for five minute?"

Dean just smiles at him slickly as he grabs the keys for the Toyota scheduled for an oil change so he can get going on his day.

"Alright, well… I guess lying to the government about you working here is gonna actually pay off."

Dean laughs at this, fully aware of Ellis' risk he's taking by hiring Dean and putting his wages under Lizzy's name due to his several official deaths. For that reason alone he will always try to be the best employee he can. He owes Ellis big time.

Yeah. Dean likes his job.

* * *

"Oh shiiiiit," Dean complains as he looks over the broken down and neglected Impala being unhitched from the tow truck. "What the hell…"

"I know. She's hurting for certain," Mike tells him as he walks up to stand next to Dean in front of the Impala's bumper.

"How does someone let this happen to a beauty like this?" Dean complains with heavy sorrow as he shakes Mike's hand in greeting. This car is in worse shape than he could have imagined. The paint is a lovely shade of once-white. It's orange with rust now and a dull gray shade of primer elsewhere. The bumper is hanging on by a thread, the grill all out of whack, the leather interior is cracked and torn with age, the back windshield is simply not here, and that's just the outside, cosmetic stuff. He's willing the bet her guts are a mess.

"I have no idea," Mike completely sympathizes with Dean's view. "But she deserves better." He drops a hand on Dean's shoulder. "And that's why I called you."

"Jesus, Mike… this could take a long time," Dean begins to warn him as he reaches for the unlatched hood. Prying it open with some effort and a loud squeal, his excitement plummets when he gets a good look inside. "I take it back. This could take forever. She doesn't even start, does she?"

"Not even close," Mike answers back, pulling the key out of his pocket and handing it over.

"Son of a bitch," Dean complains as he takes out his phone and dials a very familiar number. As he waits for the line to be picked up he slowly circles the vehicle once, eyeing it over closely.

"Yeah?" the deep and gruff voice answers.

"Bobby. How are ya?" Dean answers right back as he keeps a list of needs in his head.

"Reading until my eyes fall out. The usual. What's going on?" he cautiously asks, clearly worried by receiving a call from his kid. It's never good when Dean calls. He calls when things go to shit mostly.

"Well, I'm staring at 1967 Impala in need of some serious help."

"Boy, what did you do now!?" Bobby instantly worries, assuming Dean's speaking of his own car.

"No, no," Dean brushes off as he gets down onto the pavement, lying on his side and taking a peek underneath. "It isn't mine. Baby's doing just fine."

"So this is a job at the garage?" Bobby now assumes.

"Yeah. I've got a laundry list of things I'm gonna need just to get this car in working condition." He then sighs when he realizes how rusted out the frame is.

"Alright…" the older man starts as Dean can hear him grabbing a piece of paper. "Shoot… but just remember, any part you take for this one is a part you ain't getting for your own in the future. Only got a couple Chevy junkers out there."

"I'm in a sharing mood," Dean responds, getting up from the ground. "I haven't really gotten too deep yet but from what I see I'm gonna need a back windshield if you got one, a front bumper, I might be able to fix the grill myself but let me know if you got one of those in decent shape too…"

As Dean rattles off his list of needs, Ellis comes outside to check out the new project.

"Holy crap," he awes when he gets an eyeful of the car as Dean evaluates it. "Seen better days, huh?"

"Sure has," Mike says back. "Still love her though."

"Oh, well, there's hope in her somewhere," Ellis tries to be optimistic.

"Let's hope so," Mike laughs.

"Thanks for bringing the car in here," Ellis says quickly, extending his hand. "I appreciate the business."

"Well what choice did I have?" Mike huffs back and shakes. "The northeast isn't exactly crawling with shops that have people familiar with the classics."

"Trying to change that," Ellis promises. "Luckily I stumbled upon this kid." He nods at Dean as he has his head under the Impala's hood, reaching in deep as he talks a mile a minute to his parts supplier.

"Same here!" Mike agrees as he glances at Dean's own pristine Impala. "Hold onto this guy."

"That's the plan," Ellis responds.

* * *

 


	32. December 24th-25th (Part 1)

* * *

Hauling the last shovelful of desert sand into the pit, Sam sighs loudly. It may have taken a long time to get this salt and burn done but at least he had help on this one. All that work alone always takes far too long.

"Guess this is one way to celebrate Christmas, huh?" Samuel asks with a smirk as he checks his watch. "Excuse me. Christmas Eve…. for another two hours."

"I guess," Sam answers back. He had no plans to do anything particular for the holiday, unlike before the Cage. He remembers when he was a kid he longed for the turkey dinner and the huge Christmas tree with tons a presents from Santa under it. He also remembers the semi-sad one he threw together for Dean before his date with hell. And he'll always remember his favorite Christmas, the one Lizzy did for him and his brother last year. She went all out. The motel was lit up with multicolored, twinkling lights, they had a tree, a huge dinner, and she even got them presents which were wrapped and waiting for them in the morning… just like he'd always wanted when younger.

Now those memories hold nothing for him. He remembers that day being his favorite holiday he's ever experienced but now he truly can't remember why it held so much… love?... for him.

"Well, we got a vamp in the back of the van ready to go so I think we're gonna head for the compound," Samuel explains his plan. "Nothing like saying Happy Birthday to Jesus while driving across this great land of ours." He laughs a little.

"I think I'm gonna stick around here," Sam tells him, peering at the lights off in the distance.

"You feeling lucky or something?" Samuel smiles as he starts to pack up their tools.

"I'm feeling a little cash poor, actually," Sam explains himself. He's gotten damn good at poker since he's been back. His poker face is phenomenal if he does say so himself.

"Ah, I hear ya'," Samuel says as Christian takes the shovels from him to help out.

"Good luck out there," Christian bids to Sam when he overhears the conversation. "Last time I was here I was lucky to leave with the clothes on my back. It's a rough town."

"Don't I know it," Sam agrees, recalling his last trip. It didn't go so smoothly. That's putting it very lightly.

Sam gets into his car and starts it up. He has a couple hundred to his name right now and he's hoping to turn it into much more. He also has an old acquaintance he plans to meet up with afterwards. Hopefully she's working tonight.

As he drives back towards the Vegas Strip he smiles, ready to take advantage of the town itself.

* * *

"I'm fucked up," Lizzy laughs aloud, tripping a little as she makes her way into their apartment.

"You don't say," Dean answers back, reaching out to grab her arms as she tries to take off her shoes and almost takes a digger in the process.

"That party was really fun. I had fun." She grins wide to him, something dopey in her wasted expression as they stand in the foyer.

"L, the whole bar knows you had fun…" Dean comments, hanging up his coat while eyeing her overly hammered appearance. She overdid it. He's not surprised as she's been known to get a little too drunk for her own good during celebrations like Christmas Eve parties but at the same time she hasn't gotten this drunk in a while. That was his job as of this past year.

"Whatever," Lizzy brushes off the comment as she heads up the stairs. Dean reaches for her again and pulls her back. She trips over the shoes she just took off and falls into him.

"Such a fucking lush," Dean complains lightly as he hoists her back to her feet again. "You forgot to take off your coat. Come here." He starts to help her out of the bulky outerwear, a slight smile pulling at the corner of his lips for a second. She needs him. He knows it can't compare to all she's done for him in the past months specifically but even if it's small he couldn't care. It just feels too good to be needed.

Once her coat is off and hanging on the wall, Lizzy turns to face her husband, her drunken state turning lovey-dovey very quickly. "Thank you, baby," she says while hugging him. "You're so good to me."

"Jesus, here we go," Dean sighs, knowing where the rest of this night is going. He still hugs her back anyways.

"I'm really lucky to have you. You look out for me," Lizzy keeps it up, her words starting to blend into each other. "You love me so much…"

"Ok, start stowing the emotional crap, will ya'?" Dean asks of her. "Now's not the time."

"But it's Christmas!" Lizzy rebuts immediately as she backs away from him and looks up at him with a smile. "That's what it's about. Love." She turns to head up the stairs. "And presents. And food… lots of food."

"Amen!" Dean calls up to her, kicking her shoes off to the side of the foyer before heading up the stairs after her. He gets nervous when she takes a turn into the kitchen. "Ah, I can make some food or something… if you're hungry."

"I'm thirsty," he hears her say as the top half of her is bent in half and inside the refrigerator. And comes back up with a beer in her hand.

"Hey," Dean says quickly to grab her full attention and walks swiftly to her. He takes the drink out of her hand before she can open it. "You don't need any more booze. You're sufficiently toasted. Why don't you eat something?"

She peers at him with narrowed eyes and Dean isn't sure if he's about to get drunken fury or drunken compliance from her. He never knows which it'll be.

"Are you cutting me off?" she wonders with a tone he still can't read.

Dean pauses and thinks for a second, wanting to tread very lightly here.

"I just think…"

"Cassie!" Lizzy shouts loudly when their dog walks into the room and heads right for her. "Hi puppy!" She sits down onto the kitchen floor and greets him with sheer excitement. As she pets him and fusses over the dog Dean nods his head with the good fortune. That damn dog just saved his ass.

"Here," Dean grabs a few dog treats out of the canister on the counter and hands them over. "Just make him work for them this time. No freebies or he'll get lazy."

Lizzy happily takes the treats and turns her focus right back onto her dog. "Cassie… sit."

As Lizzy gets completely occupied by their pet, Dean sets to work. Digging through the packed refrigerator, filled with everything she needs to make the full blow Christmas dinner and then some the next day, he finds everything he needs.

Before long Lizzy looks with surprise at her husband as he sits down next to her and hands her a plate.

"You're gonna need something to soak up all that booze, you fucking bar fly," he jests with a smile.

She takes the offering, looking at a turkey burger with lettuce, tomato, mustard, and the always required by her hot sauce sitting on a small plate. He didn't even make beef burgers because she told him to eat healthier even if he doesn't like to. Smiling over to him with absolute love, she leans her head on his shoulder quickly.

"I love you."

"Yeah, yeah. Eat up," Dean dismisses as he nudges her arm. He took the expression of her feelings for him just like any other time, but when she says it drunkenly over food he knows she would have said that to anyone who handed her a burger.

They sit silently for a moment, eating while watching Cass sitting patiently in front of them. Lizzy breaks off a small piece of turkey burger and tosses it to Cass while Dean's looking away. When he looks back his dog is very suspiciously chewing something.

"L, don't feed him," he complains with sheer annoyance.

"It's fine," she rolls her eyes. "It's one tiny little bite."

"Yeah, and you keep doing that he's gonna become a little beggar. He's better than that and I want to keep him that way."

"So fucking strict," Lizzy mutters down to her food. "Friggin' dog Nazi…"

"I just don't want him to be some dog that acts like a piece of shit," Dean explains. "There's a reason I hated dogs before now. Most people spoil them. Cass will not be spoiled if I have anything to do about it."

"Whatever," Lizzy grumbles away his strong opinions that she thinks are far too ridged in the moment and keeps eating.

The silence takes over again as they finish up their food sitting on the kitchen floor. Lizzy doesn't give over any more of her late night snack to Cass.

"Let's watch a movie."

"Seriously?" Dean asks his wife with her idea. "You don't wanna pass out?"

"Fuck that," she says loudly, getting up and dropping her plate in the sink. "I'm just getting started."

She disappears from the room and Dean sighs. She's all talk. She's just going to fall asleep on the couch and he already knows it. However he doesn't complain. He just gets up, adds his plate to hers, and follows along.

Lizzy's popping a DVD into the player when he catches up to her. She smiles at him once before diving onto the couch and settling in.

"Drink this," Dean says as he plops down next to her and hands over a yellow Gatorade, her favorite. "It might make for a better morning."

"My hero," she smirks while cracking the cap. She takes a big, multiple gulp swig and they settle in as The Big Lebowski starts.

Somewhere around the first time Donnie is told to shut the fuck up, Dean glances at the clock.

12:03 am.

"Hey, Merry Christmas," Dean says quietly to Lizzy and gets nothing in response. "L?"

When he peeks at her she's dead asleep.

"Fucking knew it."

Getting up, Dean turns off the DVD player and the TV. He then brushes his teeth and returns to the living room, taking the open Gatorade out of her hand and capping it.

"Let's go, drunk ass," Dean jokes to mostly himself as he lifts her off the couch. He carries her into the bedroom and lays her down on their bed. He then opens her jeans and start to pulls them down her legs. "I swear I'm not getting frisky here, ok?" he says to her and gets a humming sound in response to hearing his voice in her sleep. Once her pants are gone, he pulls the blankets over her. "I'm not attempting the bra. You gotta just deal with that one."

He watches her snuggle into her pillow a bit and he smiles to himself. Fuck Santa. He's already got the best gift he could ask for.

God damn is he turning into a fucking girl. He's gotta stop having these thoughts. It's embarrassing to his own self.

Undressing first, Dean joins her. He pulls her closer, his arms around her smaller frame and sighs when she settles against him as always.

With all the sorrow that this holiday is sure to bring him, Dean ignores it all for now as he starts to drift off to sleep. He just lets the quiet moment be what it is. He's with her. He got to take care of her this time around. That's all that matters.

Tomorrow he'll deal with the loneliness that Christmas is sure to bring him.

* * *

He walks into Club Paradise and is actually surprised by the crowd there at what is now one-thirty Christmas morning. Guess that whole religion thing isn't as big as he'd thought it was.

Not wanting to waste any time whatsoever, Sam walks through the club, searching for her. He never really got to know her well, just having met her once briefly before his weekend off in Vegas turned to utter shit. He knew her real name (later Lizzy told him she was a stripper and gave her work name) and thought she was quite hot, but other than that he didn't know much. He doesn't need to know any more if you ask him.

After looking around and not seeing her anywhere, Sam stops a beautiful blond woman, clearly someone that works in the club according to her skimpy outfit, and decides to ask.

"Hey, uh, is Ginger Snap working tonight?"

The woman looks up to him, her eyes widening just briefly when she takes the full sight of him in, and smiles seductively.

"Yes she is… but I kind of wish you were asking for me instead," she jests slickly.

Sam eyes her over once, her large breasts barely fitting into her bubblegum pink two piece costume. "Who says I'm not looking for you too?"

Her eyebrows fly up with his response.

"Listen, I'll make you a deal," Sam says to her. "You get Ginger Snap and then the two of you meet me for a private dance. I'll pay you each double."

And that sexy little smile of hers spreads into a genuine one. "You know, I think I can convince her that it's a good idea." A server passes the two of them and the blond stripper stops her. "Can you bring Mister…?" she pauses and looks to him for his name.

"Just call me Sam."

"Can you get Sam a private room out back for me and I'll meet him there in a minute?"

"Sure," the servers smiles and takes Sam's hand. "Come with me, sweetie."

Sitting alone in the small room, Sam looks around. Red curtains covering the walls, red upholstered and small couch, it's basic and so red it's puke inducing. There's a small, circular platform in the middle of the floor supporting a shiny gold pole.

And now he's getting impatient. He sips his beer, not at all needing to be drunk to enjoy this, and looks at his phone. Ten minutes.

He sighs loudly with the long wait and shifts in his seat with boredom just as two women walk into the room.

Ginger Snap walks in first, dying to get a good look at the rich hot guy her coworker told her was asking for her services and the second she sees him she smiles.

"Well hello there," she greets while walking up to him. Once she's just a few feet away her face falls. He looks so familiar. "Have you come in here before?"

"No." Sam keeps it simple.

"Are you sure?" she asks, hands on her hips as this guy is killing her. She's seen him before. "You look so damn familiar.

"I know a friend of yours."

"Who?"

"Lizzy."

"Lizzy…. Noonan?" her eyes grow in size when she places him. "Oh my God! You're the guy she wanted me to meet when she was last here! Uh… Sam! Right?"

"Yeah." He nods.

"Well Sam, look at you," she says, happily eyeing him over with her bright green eyes. "You're hotter than I remember."

"Could say the same about you," Sam returns with. He remembered seeing her out at a bar last time, but only briefly. She wasn't dressed in her tight, all black, pleather halter top and short shorts like she is now. Her red hair cascades down her tanned shoulders and her smile, painted bright red, is quite inviting. She's fucking hot.

"Well, well. A sexy man with a deep wallet. You're my favorite kind of guy, Sam." Ginger reaches to her side and pulls the blond stripper Sam had talked to first into her side with an arm around her waist. "This is Candy."

Ginger turns her coworker around and then stares down Sam as she pulls up Candy's short skirt and runs her hand over the woman's round curves.

"Now Sam, you're a good paying customer so I have to ask…" she slaps Candy on the ass. "What is it you want to see, honey?"

Sam actually smiles with the wonderful question.

"I want to see you two back in my room after your shifts are done for the night."

The two strippers look to each other for a split second before staring back at Sam.

"We don't really…" Ginger starts but gets cut off.

"I'm willing to pay well," Sam offers, ready to negotiate. "Very well."

"How well?" Candy asks quickly asks as she turns to face him, clearly interested in the possibly lucrative deal.

"A grand… each," Sam tells them. He made out better than he expected to tonight. He started with an ok amount but walked away from the poor saps at his table with far more money than he was ready to have in his pocket. Money doesn't have much meaning to him. It doesn't drive him. It's just a necessary evil to get his job done. Sex on the other hand… giving up good cash for even better sex will always be a fair deal to him.

The two strippers once more look at each other with shock. They weren't ready for that.

"Not enough?" Sam asks, seeing that he doesn't have them for certain yet.

"It's Christmas, Sam," Ginger says, her tone different and more genuine. "I have a son…"

"What time do you get out tonight?"

"Three o'clock."

"And what time does he get up?"

Ginger isn't sure if he's being rude or just accommodating at this point as she looks at him suspiciously. "We have a rule. Not before seven in the morning on Christmas."

"Well, that leaves you plenty of time then doesn't it?"

Ginger Snap once more just looks at him, this time there's total confliction on her face. He's got her thinking about it so now is when he goes in for the kill.

"Ok, playing hard ball," Sam points out as he leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Fifteen hundred each. Final offer."

"I'm in," Candy lights up, the offer way too good to be true. She doesn't move her business into sex too often but this was just an offer not to be refused. She isn't above this one.

"Use of protection is mandatory," Ginger adds her stipulation in with a stern voice, making sure he understands how non-negotiable this rule is for her.

"Of course," Sam smiles the kind of smile people take as a reassuring one.

She bites her lip for a second, contemplating everything. He's a friend of Lizzy's and she certainly trusts Lizzy. And the deal is unbeatable. Ginger's been known to do such things for a whole lot less cash when it got tight but it's been years since she's had sex for money. Once her son reached the age of three she got the hell out.

Ah fuck it. She caves in when she thinks of what a grand and a half can do for her son's college fund.

"Ok," she agrees. "I'll do it. Cash up front when we get there. We'll discuss boundaries when we arrive but nothing too freaky or weird. We leave by 5 o'clock."

"That works for me," Sam tells her, glad to get the negotiations out of the way.

"Ok."

"Ok… but for now I think you two owe me a show." He did offer to pay well for some private room time.

"Well then the same question still stands," Ginger Snap smiles wide as she turns to face Candy. Her hands slide from Candy's shoulders, down her breasts, and then snake around to grab her ass, pulling the woman flush against her. "What would you like to see, Sam?"

* * *

The soft knock on the door comes at twenty past three in the morning. Sam closes his laptop and stands up. Without an ounce of hesitance or nervous energy, Sam makes his way to the door. He opens it quickly, his same fake yet reassuring smile on his face as he does.

"Hi."

"Hey," Ginger Snap says right after Candy does, both standing side by side as they look at him in the doorway. "You look good." And he does. He's in a pair of well-worn jeans and a t-shirt just tight enough to reveal how good his body might just be underneath. His barefoot casualness adds to the air of mystery around this guy.

"Thanks." He stares at them blankly.

"Uh… you wanna do it out here or are you gonna invite us in?" Ginger asks with impatient jest when he just stands there for a moment and says nothing while looking at them both.

Without a word Sam steps aside and lets them in. They both make their way, standing in the middle of the room and looking around for a second.

"For such a high roller you aren't really too picky about where you stay, huh?" Candy comments as she drops her purse onto a chair at the small wooden table in the corner.

"I pay for what I need."

"Do we count in that?" Candy says with a fun smile and Sam just makes a small smile right back. He looks then over, Candy in her pink t-shirt and denim jacket with faded blue jeans and Ginger in her White t-shirt, black leather motorcycle jacket, and black jeans.

"So, cash up front and rules," Ginger gets down to business. She really would like to catch a nap before her son wakes up for Christmas.

"What's your name?" Sam asks Candy first.

"Sarah," she tells him without hesitation. What the hell does she care anyways? The guy is just visiting and he's paying her very well.

"And Emily," Sam nods at Ginger.

"You remembered. How sweet," she jokes very lightly before wagging a finger at him. "Cash, big man."

Sam pulls his wallet out of his pants and opens it. He takes out a stack of hundreds that clearly adds up to much more than he promised to them. The two women watch as he counts out the money, three grand, and then places it on an old, worn table by the door.

"Good to know you weren't exaggerating," Emily mentions as she drops her own purse with Sarah's. "Rules. Nothing crazy. No tying us down and no pain. We walk out of here mark-free."

Sam nods in agreement.

"No anal either," Sarah adds in. "Not my thing."

"Same here," Emily agrees. "Oh, and we don't do any hard drugs if you were planning on having that kind of a party."

"Drug free," Sam simply tells her.

"Good, ok. So pretty much just don't be a dick and we're all gonna get along just fine here."

Sam smirks at this. Without speaking he walks to an upholstered chair in the corner of the room. He pockets his wallet again and takes a seat, sitting back casually while the two strippers stand side-by-side in the middle of the room looking at him.

"Undress each other," Sam tells them coolly as he stares them down, his blank and emotionless eyes piercing them as he waits. He has an arm draped onto ear arm of the chair as if this were any other night to him and his eyes scan them over with sheer basic need.

Emily, as she has seemed to be the more in charge of the two of them even back at the club, turns quickly to Sarah with a smile.

"You ready for this?" she asks, her hands starting on Sarah's hips and they slide along the waist of her jeans.

"For fifteen hundred I'm always ready," she jokes right back, her hands knotting into Emily's hair and pulling her closer.

They're lips meet slow and sensual, moving languidly as Emily lifts Sarah's shirt over her head. Instantly Emily's hands are smoothing down Sarah's bare back, pulling her flush against her own body as she does. Emily is not shy when it comes to sex with women. She's been there and she's done that. Hell, she even when quite far with Lizzy and Dean during their last visit. This scenario isn't too new to her. Pushing the conventional norm concerning sex is something that excites Emily. She loves sex.

Sarah, on the other hand, has only done this type of thing for money. This is a way to help pay off that clichéd college loan of hers that all strippers are legend to have. Paying fifteen hundred bucks towards it will feel really good and make this all worth it. And, if she's being honest, Sam's pretty fucking hot. She thinks she'll have plenty of fun earning this money if she really lets herself.

Emily smiles at Sarah wide when her fingers slip into the front of her jeans. She quickly pops open the button and lower the zipper, they're eyes meeting the entire time.

Sam continue to watch the two of them intently, the scene before him perfectly sensual… and taking a while. Granted they're probably taking their time and making sure he gets a show worth all the cash he was willing to give them, but he's ready for more.

"I already saw the strip show, ladies. Let's go."

Both women look at him with surprise. They weren't expecting that. Nevertheless he's the boss so they get moving, taking off each other's clothing without ceremony. Soon enough there's a pile on the floor and two women, both perfect in their own ways, stand naked before Sam.

With a sigh he realizes what a good idea this was after all. Sarah's cute, blond, and petite with a body that's made to be tossed around. And Emily, well she just fits perfectly under the bombshell label with large, round breast, an ass to match, and face that just screams for him to fuck it. Yeah, he made some good choices with these two.

"Come here," Sam commands as he opens his jeans. "On your knees."

They obey, dropping down on the carpet at his feet.  He pulls his clothing from the waist down off, his pants and underwear in a pile on the floor under his bare feet.  Peering at each of them one at a time while grabbing himself hard, stroking a few times, he then gives his next command.  “Suck my dick… both of you.”

Now Sam’s seen a lot since he’s lost his soul, and yes he’s strictly thinking about the women he’s encountered.  It’s shocking how far a man can get a chick to go and what she’ll be willing to do if he has the right look and proper amount of confidence.  Oh, and some serious skills.  You make a woman hard come once and she’s putty.  She’ll do anything, absolutely _anything_ , after that.

This, however… this is worth the insane amount of cash he’s willing to part with. 

Emily and Sarah coordinate silently, taking turns seeing how far they can each making it down Sam’s exceptional size.  They hum with effort, smile like they’re completely into it, and work so well together that Sam’s starting to think that this was not a difficult task to perform for either of them.  In fact he’d be willing to bet they’re plain having fun.

“Yeah…” he pants out as his head falls back a bit when Emily hoovers his dick like a professional and Sarah watches on, waiting her turn.  “This is gonna be fun.”

* * *

The clock says four a.m. and Dean sighs. They went to bed just a few hours ago yet he's up.

It takes some time but he's able to slowly get himself out of bed without waking Lizzy. She stays there, looking peacefully asleep through her drunken slumber and Dean starts to think he didn't drink enough at that party. A blackout would really hit the spot right about now.

Meandering down the hallway he turns into the kitchen. On autopilot he pours himself a drink. Lizzy was sure to stock the apartment with anything they might want for Christmas, including every kind of whiskey she could think of. He chooses the bourbon as she went big on that particular bottle. Knob Creek, an old favorite of his. She got him a bottle of the stuff when she first started hunting with he and Sam years ago. She claimed the nameless, bottom shelf stuff was going to kill him someday and he needed to stop abusing his taste buds so much.

At least she was right about that.

The glass is a big pour but he knows he needs to drink a decent amount to help him forget enough to get back to sleep. Once the cup is in hand he heads back down the hallway and into the living room. Cass gets up from his dog bed when he sees his buddy and walks right over to him. Dean drops down in the middle of the hardwood floor and settles there with his beloved dog, petting him as he take a large gulp of his drink.

Eye closed, Dean tries to get the images out of his head. That look in Sam's eyes, not the evil one once Lucifer took over, but the frightened one he had when he told him it was ok, that he had Lucifer… that look continues to haunt him every day. It was filled with utter fear. Sam used to get that look when he was young and dad had pushed him into the life. He'd be terrified at times and his eyes always gave him away.

Sam was brave the day that he ended the Apocalypse, no doubt about that. He gave his soul to eternal damnation to save the world, make up for his mistakes, and let Dean and Lizzy have a life, a real life. But all the while he was frightened to the core and there was nothing big brother could do about that.

And now it's Christmas and he's alone. Yes, he has Lizzy and he would never discount that. She's means the world to him. But his family, his mother, father, and little brother are gone. That's a lonely feeling that even Dean has yet to experience until now.

So he sits there, Cass resting his furry head in his lap to show his understanding and love while he drinks the lonesome feelings away. He needs to get some sleep and prepare to appear happy-ish for Lizzy's sake for the rest of the waking day. He'd never ruin her holiday like that.

But this day is already just so fucking hard…

* * *

“Oh, fuck!” Sarah’s voice loudly screams as she angles her head up to the ceiling with sheer pleasure.  And Sam just smiles something base with the sound.

He continues on his harsh pace, fucking her hard from behind while she’s on all fours on the old motel bed, Emily underneath her watching as her hands roam the woman’s body. 

“Ooh, damn,” Sarah near whines high-pitched as Sam’s hands dig into her hips hard.  “Fuck me!”

An hour after the girls arrived and it’s been non-stop sex and sheer fun worth every penny Sam is shelling out to them.  These girls have been more than fun.  God, the way Emily so happily devoured his dick during that first go around… amazing.  She fell to her knees, looked up at him with absolute crazed want and swallowed him whole.  He never expected to come right then but he did, Emily taking down all he had to offer and doing it with a proud smile.  He’s starting to see that she’s a bit more into this than he’d expected.  She’s up for every challenge he doles out.  Sarah’s been impressive herself but Emily… Emily didn’t need to get paid to find the joy in all this.  He’s loving the freak that’s coming out of her.

While needing to recharge after Emily’s well-versed talents toppled him, Sam requested a show.  And a show he got.  As he sat back in the upholstered chair and watched, Sarah and Emily enjoyed themselves on his bed.  This is when Emily’s wilder side came out as she took over completely.  It was impressive to see her go off like that, making Sarah scream more than once in record time.  Sure, Sarah did her best too, but Emily attacked with a voracious appetite once they got going.  The two of them were interesting, very different from each other yet working in a lovely symbiotic way.

And eventually Sam couldn’t take the sitting by and watching anymore.  He was ready to go all over again with everything they just presented to him and now here he is, thrusting into the petite blond from behind as she hovers over the curvy redhead.

“Come on, girl,” Emily says with lust coating her voice as she looks up to Sarah, her finger tips dragging lightly down her body.  She reaches lower until she can touch Sarah intimately, helping her get to that finish line.  “Fucking do it.  Come for us.”

“Oh my God,” Sarah moans out immediately, everything pushing her further and further.

Sam watches as Emily leans up on an elbow, never stopping her helping hand.  With her lips to Sarah’s ear Emily says something.  He doesn’t know what she says but whatever it is it was a good one.  Sarah immediately responds.

“Oh fuck yes!” she shouts as Sam feels her tighten around him hard.  She moans louder than she has all night, her body completely giving into everything she’s been subjected to since she walked through that motel door.  “Oh God!”

Once she’s begun to come down Sarah drops down onto Emily, collapsing with the intense moment as she had no choice.  Her own muscles refused to listen as they were too taxed.  Her orgasm ripped through her viciously and has left her a satisfied heap.

“Good girl,” Emily coos as she cards a hand through Sarah’s long blond hair while wrapping her up in her arms, all the while staring at Sam over her shoulder.  “You took that big hard dick like a professional.”  She winks at Sam, letting him know he’s still got some work to do.

Without saying a thing Sam pulls out of Sarah and grabs her around the waist.  He pushes her off to the side until she’s lying on the bed next to Emily, a dazed face of sated bliss looking up to him with the tiniest of smiles.  Sam then focuses on Emily, pulling her closer by the thighs as he’s ready to start in on her.

“Ah-ah” she tisks with the wag of a finger before pointing to his manhood.  Oh, right… he had rules today.

Sam quickly pulls off the condom he used with Sarah and tosses it in the general vicinity of the trashcan.  When he turns back to Emily she’s already got a new one for him.  She bites down on the corner of the wrapper and pulls, tearing it open with her teeth.

A small, dark smile grows on Sam’s lips as he takes the package from her mouth.  He rolls on the protective measure quickly, dropping the wrapper onto the ugly orange carpet absently, and he positions himself.

“Alright big boy,” Emily says with a challenging tone as she narrows her eyes up at him.  She smoothes her hands down his chest as she hums with want.  “I want you to give me everything you got.  Don’t you dare hold back on me.”

His eyes darkening even more with her request, Sam presses into her hard, knowing he might even be hurting her at first with his size but not really caring.  From what he’s seen of her he’s thinking she’ll like it well enough and handle it even better.

With one long, deep moan with closed eyes Sam knows he’s right.  Emily is already more than enjoying herself.

“Ooh… yeah…” she whispers mostly to herself before lifting her lids, her bright green eyes latching onto his.  Something odd about him, maybe slightly empty somehow, but whatever it is he’s fucking hot for it.  Sam doesn’t care, doesn’t have reservations about taking what he wants.  He’s not intimidated by her forward style either.  He’s carnal to his very core, working on instinct only.  He’s surely a one of a kind, Emily knows that, but how she doesn’t know. 

Then again, who gives a fuck.  He’s hot and that dick is huge.

A couple thrusts in and Sam’s already itching for a change.  He pulls Emily up by the upper arms, circling them around his neck before he lifts her off the bed. 

“Fuck, I love a strong man,” Emily comments before she settles into his hold.  She moves her hips and continues to fuck him while hoisted onto him, Sam groaning with her nonstop drive and ability. 

“Fuck,” Sam grits out as he walks to the upholstered chair in the corner.  Once standing before it he pauses and lets her continue, enjoying seeing her need for him in such an obvious way.  He bites down on his neck, her teeth just sinking in enough to feel that perfect amount of pleasure and pain.  She’s good.

Lifting her to separate them, Sam then drops her to her feet.  She looks up at him expectantly, knowing he has a plan, and almost immediately he turns her around by the hips.  He then pushes her towards the chair a bit, helping position her onto it facing backwards.  He gets her kneeling on the cushion and props a knee up onto one of the arms.  Pushing her back forward until she’s bent over the back of the chair, he then moves to push into her quickly.

Thrusting once into her with harsh force, her body jolting forward as she yelps out her enjoyment, and he turns around to look at Sarah, lying on the bed still as she slightly smiles with sheer satisfaction. 

“Get your ass over here,” Sam calls to her and Sarah lifts her head to look at him.  Giving her an impatient face, she gets up from the mattress and walks over to the two on the chair.  As she gets there she runs a hand up his strong, bare back as it’s facing her before traveling up over his shoulder and down his chest a bit.  Once she’s standing to his side Sam pulls her closer, a hand at the back of her neck.  He gets her just an inch from his face before telling her, “Make yourself useful.”

He then lets her go before grabbing her arm.  He pulls her until she standing around the back of the chair and facing Emily. 

Sarah smirks and leans down, grabbing Emily’s face and kissing her instantly.  Emily runs a hand over Sarah’s skin everywhere and Sam returns to fucking her with sheer need and true want.  Merry fucking Christmas to him.

* * *

 


	33. December 25th (Part 2)

* * *

"So that was, ah," Emily starts as she pulls on her leather jacket and looks over to Sam. "Well, the easiest money I've ever made. I feel like I'm ripping you off."

Sam doesn't really answer as he pulls his t-shirt on. He's back in the clothes he was in when he opened the door for them an hour and a half ago and the two women in his room are now fully dressed.

"My God you are talkative," she jokes when he doesn't respond. And he still doesn't.

Sam walks to the door and picks up the money he dropped there when they first arrived. He divides it up and hands Sarah her payment.

"Thank you," she smiles, feeling quite a lot like Emily at this point. She had fun even if it wasn't her norm to have threesomes with a stranger and a coworker. Well worth the risk of coming there in the end.

Sam then walks to Emily and hands her the second half.

"You know, if you're ever in town again I'm sure we could find a way to get together with you for a repeat. If you'd be interested, that is," she begins while putting the stack of bills in her purse and pulling out a pen. "My son's college fun wouldn't mind meeting your deep pockets once more either." She says this with a smile as she grabs his hand. She turns it over palm side up and writes her personal phone number onto it. "And trust me, I never mind working hard for my money… as you now know." She winks up at him when she's done.

"Ok," Sam simply answers.

"Merry Christmas, Sam," Sarah says to him cheerfully as she opens the motel door. Emily pulls her purse over her shoulder and starts for the door, pausing in front of Sam before leaving.

She peers up at him with a little bit of smoldering want before reaching up to his taller height. She pulls him down strongly by the back of the neck and kisses him. It's no normal parting kiss, either. Emily presses her lips to his, runs her tongue along his, and means serious business.

"I better hear from you again," she says quietly to him when she ends the kiss without backing away. Their eyes meet for a split second before she walks towards the door. "Hope Santa's good to you this year, Sam." She pauses in the doorway before leaving. "Even if you've been a little naughty."

When the door closes Sam just pauses for a second. He thinks over his night, looks at his hand for a moment, and pulls out his phone. He saves Emily's number, something he's not done once so far since he's been topside and burning through chicks like it was his job. He'd be crazy not to, right? Could be beneficial if he ever returned to Vegas and it'd be all business once more if he ever called her again.

Sam then starts to pack up his things to check out. It's early but if he gets out on the road in an hour or so he could arrive at the compound in less than a day.

Time for a new hunt.

* * *

Flushing the toilet, Dean extends the courtesy of putting the seat back down. It's Christmas. It's the least he can do.

He then turns to look at himself in the mirror above the sink. The reflected face looking back at him is tired, very tired, and scruffy. Leading up to Christmas it's been a rough road. Even if he doesn't remember a single good, homey Christmas with his mother and even if the ones he does remember are filled mostly with half-decent at best take out and a drunken, stumbling and sad father, the holiday will always make him think of family… most specifically, Sam.

As he looks at the pendent around his neck he thinks about when Sam gave it to him for one of their motel Christmases and sighs.

It didn't matter where they were or how bad it was, Dean always did what he could to give his little brother some form of celebration on Christmas. Sure, he's done some not so great things in order to do so. He more than once broke into nicer homes to steal presents once he figured out how to pick a lock and most definitely he's stolen cash slowly over time from his father's wallet in order to buy something Sam wanted so badly so he could claim it was from Santa, but it was worth it. He'd do anything for his brother.

And their last Christmas together, the one they didn't necessarily know was going to be their last together, was the closest they'd ever come to the real thing. And it's all because of Lizzy.

Lizzy. His wife loves this holiday with everything she has in her. She's seen the Norman Rockwell version several times over, her mother making every Christmas they had together everything a little kid could ever dream of and Lizzy tried her hardest to pass this right on to her boys.

She made dinner, a huge dinner, of turkey and stuffing and green bean casserole because Sam once mentioned he loved the stuff. She decorated their motel in the most kitschy and bright way a hunter with barely any cash could. She even bought them gifts that were so well planned, so well thought out, and so perfectly tailored to their personalities that it was amazing. Dean sits happy with the fact that at least Sam's last Christmas was exactly what it should have been; everything they've always missed out on.

He splashes his face with water, hoping to wash away the sad thoughts with it. It's been depressing these few days. He couldn't even enjoy Jim and Jenny's party at the bar last night, even if Lizzy could.

This is a huge day for her. He wants Lizzy to be happy and have one really good day. She deserves that. This was about her.

Face dried off, Dean walks out of the bathroom and back down the hallway. He stops in the bedroom to throw on a t-shirt and sweatpants as he hears Christmas music begin playing quietly in the living room.

"Mornin' Cass," Dean says to the dog as he meets him in the hall. He pets his head and they head for the living room together.

By the time he makes his way in there Lizzy's sitting on the couch. She has her UMass sweatshirt on, the one with the neck cut wide open, and some black yoga pants on. Her hair is up in a high pony, her bangs a little unruly with sleep as they sweep across her forehead, and, most importantly, she has a smile on her face… despite what has to be a raging headache. It's been so long since he's seen a true, honest smile like that from her. That alone will make him shove down his sorrow enough to give her the nice, family oriented holiday that she wants.

"I went with bloody maries this year," she smirks at him, a premade pitcher full and sitting on the coffee table already. "Hope that's cool with you."

"It's very cool," Dean says back to her and takes a seat next to her, leaving zero space between them. She leans over and kisses him once quickly on the lips.

"I did what I could to not puke while smelling the vodka as I poured it," she jokes while rubbing her temple. "I figure if I power through my first drink I'll be back to feeling good in no time."

"A little hair of the dog has never failed me before."

"Yeah, me neither," she smiles small. "Merry Christmas, Dean."

"Merry Christmas."

"I know this day isn't gonna be easy for you and I understand if you want to ignore it even if you told me you didn't want to."

He looks at her with a soft grin, adoring that she offers him an exit strategy. She cares so much, enough to ignore her favorite day of the year just to make sure he's alright.

"No way," Dean tells her, taking her hand. "I know what this shit means to you so I can suck it up. Apple pie, right?"

"I really appreciate that," she says to him, cupping his face and pulling him in. She kisses him more seriously than before. "And I'll make sure you're thanked properly for this once this hangover is gone!"

"See, it's already worth it," he jokes right back, already feeling an ease wash over him with her being near and just showing how much she loves him.

"Want to open your present?" she asks, her excitement clear in her face.

"Sure."

"Yes," she cheers as she gets up quickly and ducks under the Christmas tree they brought home a few days ago. Picking up a couple packages, she nearly skips back to her spot next to Dean as he pours out a couple morning cocktails. Ah, holidays… when drinking before ten is totally acceptable.

He hands her a glass.

"Thanks," she says, taking a quick sip, swallowing the beverage with difficulty, and then putting it down. She just wants him to open his gift. "Here." She hands over an envelope that's been perfectly wrapped. The ribbon and bow on it complete the Martha Stewart look of it all.

Dean looks to her suspiciously. "You didn't go overboard did you? Because we talked about this…"

"Money's tight, I know," she rolls her eyes. "I didn't want to but I stayed within the set monetary limit. Now shut up and open it." She then looks to their pet. "Cassie, come!" She takes the red ribbon off of the other gift in her lap and holds it out to him. The dog takes the large leg bone coated in barbeque flavoring in his mouth. "Merry Christmas, puppy."

Cass happily walks back to his dog bed in the corner and lays down, chewing hardily on the new gift.

"Good gift," Dean nods, not having thought of his dog when buying gifts.

"I thought so," she nods. "He's the dog I always wanted growing up. He's such a good boy… I just figured he deserved something fun too."

"Well that was nice of you."

"Thanks… now get to opening!" she demands with lack of decorum.

A narrow eyed look for good measure and he opens the decorated envelope up. Inside is a piece of paper that he slides out and takes a good look at it.

"Uh…" he starts while looking over the page. On it is a hand drawing of a crest, the shield having four crosses and four diamond shapes on it. It's been intricately designed, a knight's helmet along with other detailing above it and below it a ribbon with words in Latin. "Ok, I'm a little lost here…"

"It's the Winchester family crest," she says with a huge bright smile. "I did a lot of research and found that this one right here," she taps the paper. "Most definitely belongs to your family. It's originally an English surname from around 1100 but the family moved to Scotland after some trouble in their original country and they got driven out… sounds about right, doesn't it?"

"Yeah…" Dean answers back, just studying the picture with still going confusion.

"So I worked this rendering out with my man Mitch," she further explains. "The coat of arms is exact, I didn't mess with that, but the detail around it we might have fucked with a bit. The helmet is there to represent the fighting and protective spirit of the family. I thought that was very appropriate considering what the past few generations had dedicated themselves to. Also, on the bottom there, on the ribbon, it says 'simul nos mala non timeam' which means…

"Together…. we fear no evil?" Dean tries his hand at translating.

"That's my smart man," Lizzy says with total pride when he gets it right.

No words said after that, Dean just peers at her after studying the page all through her explanation.

"Well…? Do you like it?" she asks, her voice somewhere between nervous and excited.

"Uh, yeah. I do… but what is it?" Dean has to wonder once more, not truly understanding why he's holding the drawing.

"Oh God. I probably should have explained that," Lizzy laughs when she realizes she skipped the explanation of what exactly the design is while too anxious to give it to him. "Mitch is my tattoo artist. It's a tattoo."

Wide eyes turn to look back at the page. She got him a tattoo for Christmas? What?

"I figured it would a good way for you to honor your family, the one that's done so much good and has lost so much because of that," Lizzy keeps talking, her chin resting on his shoulder as she hugs his upper arm while they both look over the page. "I never want you to lose who you are and where you've been, even if it wasn't always pretty. And you're mother, father, Sam, even your grandparents, uh, even if they were Campbell's and not Winchesters… they deserve the respect they've earned."

"Amen to that," he offhandedly remarks.

Lizzy smiles with his agreement to her sentiments. "I have an appointment set for a few days from now when we both have time off."

"You're serious?" Dean asks, still thrown off by the gift.

"Very," she tells him. "I mean, I wasn't sure if you'd ever want to get more ink, considering the only tat you have is there for protection only, and I know they're, they're not something every person wants to have but… I don't know… it seemed right…."

"Let's do it." Dean cuts her off when he can hear the second-guessing in her voice. He doesn't want her to think this was a bad idea when really it was a well thought out and honestly loving gift. This one has more meaning to it than anything else he's ever been given… well, besides the amulet Sam gave him. Oh, or maybe the Impala his dad passed down to him. Huh, who knew he'd been so lucky?

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Lizzy assures him. "It wouldn't hurt my feelings at all. I know this isn't for everyone."

"I want to," Dean tells her, surprising himself with how true the statement is. He never considered getting any other work done but the heart she put into this gift and the meaning behind it… shit, he'd be proud to wear this one for the rest of his life. Not only does it link him to the family he's lost, it's a direct link to Lizzy. She came up with this and she's a Winchester herself these days. Every time he'd see it on himself he'd be reminded of what he's had in life and the pride he holds in his family.

"So you actually like it?" she asks him, her head lifting off his shoulder. One look at her bright and hopeful smile and he knows he's going to do it.

"I love it," he tells her, leaning forward to kiss her in thanks.

"Oh thank God!" she says, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You just made my day! I wasn't sure you'd want to do it." What relief.

"So when's this going down?" he asks when she backs away.

"Wednesday," she tells him. "I know you get out earlier that day and I don't have a shift that night."

"Ok," Dean nods.

"Yup and I'll be in the chair right after you."

He gives her a questioning look.

"Dean, you really think I would put all that work into a tat like that and not get it too?" she laughs a bit. "I'm adding it to my arm. This thing is bad ass and when I look at it... I don't know, it makes me think of how proud I am to be in your family. And it reminds me of Sam. He'd appreciate the nerdy amount of detail and research I put into this."

Swallowing hard, Dean just nods his agreement while looking back down at the coat of arms. It really is something else. It's perfect, detailed, and it represents exactly his family.

"I kinda can't believe you did this for me," Dean tells her after sitting and thinking for a moment.

"Well believe it," she grins with how much she can tell he likes it. "Especially since this is a little bit for me too."

"Oh is it?"

"Mmhmm," she grins with something new behind her tone. "This will just make you even sexier to me than you already are."

"Interesting," Dean says to her, discovering something about her he actually didn't know. "You got a thing for ink?"

"I might," she laughs a little. "It's that whole loving the bad boy thing I got going on. I've always loved a man with some ink."

"You should have told me this before."

"Oh should I have?"

"I would have gone full blow Tyson for you years ago."

Lizzy laughs brightly with the image. "And ruin that face!?" She grabs his chin and squeezes, his lips pursing like a fish. "You do that and I'll kill you," she promises and seals it with a kiss.

"Fair enough," Dean says to her once she lets him go. "You want your present now?"

Lizzy nods her head rapidly, making her look like the child she still is deep in there. Dean grins and gets up, reaching for a poorly wrapped package under the tree while Lizzy attempts to drink away her hangover a little more.

"Wow!" Lizzy giggles a little when the present is placed in her lap. "Look at that."

"Uh, this was the first time I ever wrapped anything… with real wrapping paper so…"

"It's beautiful," she jests and kisses him on the cheek sweetly. She then tears open the small rectangular box without a care, the paper flying. When she sees what it is she pauses for a second with utter surprise.

And Dean is forced to wait patiently.

"You asshole!" she calls him as she shoves him a bit. "You said no going over the set limit!"

"Yeah,  _you_  weren't allowed to spend too much on me. I never said shit about what I promised to spend on you."

"You suck so bad!" she says, her angry tone conflicting with her smile on her face. "This cost way more than a hundred bucks."

"But you're old IPod is about to shit the bed any day now," Dean points out to her. "You've had that thing for almost seven years now and it freezes up all the time. You needed to upgrade."

"That  _is_  true," she admits while looking over the black box in her hand.

"And can you live without an IPod?"

"God no!"

"So this had to happen," Dean shrugs his shoulder. "I was told by the guy at the store that this was a good one for you… though he probably took me for a ride a since I walked in there knowing nothing like a clueless asshole. By the way, we should've bought stock in Apple when Cass shoved our asses into the past. We'd be fucking rich with the cost of these things."

As Dean points to the box he looks at her, her face lit up with a huge smile.

"Thank you," she says calmly, accepting that he lied and duped her all the while being very thoughtful and having her best interest at heart.

"You're welcome."

Lizzy sighs. "You're awesome. I'm lucky to have you."

"Whoa," Dean smirks away the very serious and loving comment. "The sober flattery. I should blow cash on you more often then."

"Shut up," she tells him and gets up once more, grabbing something she hid in the back of the Christmas tree. "And I got you something else. This one is small though."

"So you didn't stick to the limit either!? Why you yelling at me then?" Dean accuses her instantly.

"Relax, jerk face. I stuck to the limit because Mitch did me a solid and gave me a deal but this cost like seven bucks so it didn't count. Just open it."

She hands it over and takes her seat again. She watches her husband who's still slightly uncomfortable with people giving him things and being so kind. Someday she plans to cure that issue.

When he gets the paper ripped away he takes a good look at the small yet huge gift. It's a framed picture, the frame itself nothing too special. Wooden and plain. But it's the picture that blows him away.

He never knew the image existed until right this moment. Lizzy has been known to snap random pictures with her phone now and then, this one being a candid one. It's he and Sam. It must have been one of the many times they'd pull off to the side of the road after driving for far too long. They usually stretched their legs, had a beer, and took a load off. In the picture they're both sitting on the hood of the Impala, a beer in hand for each of them. He doesn't remember this exact moment or who said what, but whatever it was must have been funny. Sam has his head tilted back, his face looking to the sky as he laughs, every tooth visible, and Dean's doubled over a bit, the same bright, mid-laugh smile on his own face as he looks to the side of him at Sam. It's a perfectly frozen in time example of what they were. Maybe he and his brother didn't laugh often enough, or even enjoyed each other's presence all the time, but at the base of it all this was their relationship. They were brothers. They loved each other. They needed each other. And as much as they would never admit it, they actually  _liked_  each other most days.

"It's my favorite picture I have ever taken," Lizzy tells him, looking down at the image while leaning onto him, her head on his shoulder. "I plan on putting up a bunch of family photos from both our sides on the wall in here and I wanted that to be the first one I put up."

Biting back his emotions as hard as he can manage, Dean keeps quiet. He just looks down at everything he misses most in life and tries not to ruin this day for her. But it isn't working.

With his silence Lizzy grows concerned.

"Baby? You ok?" Lizzy worries.

"Ah," Dean starts and then clears his throat to try and get rid of the looming sadness. "Fine. Just, um…" He can't speak really. "I just need a minute." He gets up, places the picture on the coffee table gently, and heads down the hallways. "Cass! Let's go!"

The dog leaves the living room, even abandoning his tasty gift, and runs for him the second he hears Dean call. That's his signal for going for a walk and he's never once turned that down.

As Lizzy sits there staring at the picture of Dean and Sam she can hear them get ready, Dean putting his boots on and then latching in place Cass' leash, before the front door opens and closes. It's silent aside from Bing Crosby wishing her a Merry Little Christmas.

Shit. She pushed it too far.

Getting up from the couch to look for him through the window, she watches as he makes his way down the street, a hand washing down his face once. She knows it's to get rid of the tears already forming.

She just hopes he'll be ok after taking Cass for a walk. It usually does the trick. She's so happy she convinced him to get that puppy of theirs. He seems to have a cathartic effect on her husband. Whenever things go wrong or the day gets too damn depressing he brings Cass outside to play or they go for a long walk.

Sighing heavily, she leaves the window when she can no longer see Dean's hunched frame down the street. She made a huge mistake here. Hopefully the time out will get him back into the right frame of mind to try and enjoy the day. She's not giving up on him just yet. Not when she has food to cook for him.

Making her way to the kitchen she makes a mental note to ensure she leaves enough time to make both apple and blueberry pie. He'll need both.

* * *

"Sammy!"

Breathing in deeply when he hears the sound of his name, Sammy starts to wake. But his bed is so warm and comfy that he doesn't want to.

"Sammy, come on!" he hears that same voice even louder and this time he's roughly shaken by the shoulder. "Get up! It's Christmas!"

Rolling over to sit up while rubbing his eyes, he gets a look at who woke him up.

"Dean?" he asks, his young voice groggy with sleep. He's staring right at his nine year old brother, Little Dean's hair flat on one side with some classic bed head.

"Presents, Sammy! Presents!" Dean excitedly shouts right in his face while pulling his little brother's arm in attempt to drag him out of bed. "Mom said we couldn't open them until we were both up so get your butt out of bed already!"

And then Sammy's heart skips a beat. That's right! It's Christmas morning! His brain kick-starts awake and he's on his feet instantly. Together the brothers excitedly pound their feet down the stairs to the first floor. Rounding the corner into the living room they both get an eyeful of the lit up Christmas tree and the many gifts piled perfectly underneath it.

"Wow," Sammy whispers to himself as he looks everything over. It's overwhelming and just too good to be true.

"Merry Christmas, boys!" John smiles wide as he looks at his sons' bright faces while standing in front of the huge, twinkling tree.

"Dad, this is awesome!" Dean nearly shouts and dives for the floor where the presents marked  _Dean_  are sitting. "Santa rules!"

"Ah, hold it!" John stops him, scooping the boy up and lifting him off his fast feet before he can touch a single gift. "Not before your mom is in here to watch."

"Oh my God!" he complains as he father tosses playfully him into a spot on the couch. " _Wait_  for Sammy to get up.  _Wait_  for mom. Dad, you're killing me!"

"Calm down, Dean," John laughs at his impatient kid that's now sitting with his arms crossed as he eyes his gifts. He then turns to look at Sammy. "Morning, squirt."

"Morning dad," Sammy smiles and runs to John. He picks up the little boy and gives him a hug. "Looks like you've been good this year."

"I was, I promise," he says back, hugging his small arms around his father.

"That's my boy."

"No he wasn't," Dean comments right back. "He was annoying all year long."

"Huh," John says aloud, obviously joking. "And here I thought it was  _you_  who was annoying all year."

Sammy laughs at this. He loves when he can get some help from his dad in getting Dean back. The older brother always had a quick mouth and Sammy's too young catch up just yet.

"Merry Christmas!" Mary brightly greets her boys as she comes into the room in pajamas and with her Santa hat on.

"Mom!" Sammy shouts, for some reason just so happy to see her. He leans out away from his dad's hold to signal that he wants to get down.

"Finally!" Dean complains as he gets up from the couch. "Let's do this!"

"Mommy!" Sammy yells again once he's standing on the ground and he runs to her. She bends down just in time to give him a huge hug.

"Good morning, love," she says to him, just like every morning.

"Good morning, mom," Sammy returns as he kisses her on the cheek. "I love you."

"That Christmas spirit must be really in you this morning," she jokes with a wide smile. "Guess it's good that you're old enough to be Santa this year."

She then takes her Santa hat off and pulls it over Sammy's head. It's too big for him and it covers right over his eyes.

Sammy giggles and pulls the hat up a bit so he can see, his grin wide as he looks at his mother.

"I love you too, sweetie," she returns, a big kiss to his cheek as she turns him to face the tree. "Alright Santa, who's first?"

"Dean!" Sammy shouts with way too much excitement as he reaches for the gift that's off to the side. He picks up the tall, bulky box that his mother helped him wrap and with much difficulty he drags it across the carpet. "Here, Dean!"

"Nice!" Dean cheers as he takes the box from Sammy.

"This is mine! I picked it out all by myself!"

"Cool," Dean begins tearing like a mad man, way too excited to see what his five year old brother could possibly have picked out himself. Once he gets a look at the box he nearly freaks out. "Whoa! Are you kidding me!?"

"He really did pick it out himself," Mary reminds him. "He took one look at it and knew you'd love it."

"This is so awesome!" Dean marvels as he looks at the picture on the box. "Nerf Raider Rapid Fire CS-35! This thing is so awesome! Jason's gonna be so jealous! I'm gonna kill him with this thing!"

"Hey, be nice," John immediately cuts in with the way Dean speaks of his neighborhood friend. "No killing anyone."

"Yes, dad," Dean immediately apologizes in a flat tone before he puts the box down and runs to Sammy. "Thanks Sammy! That's the best gift ever!"

Little Sammy just smiles wide as he looks at his mom while being squeezed to death by his excited big brother.

"Told you he'd love it, Sam," Mary laughs as Dean starts to swing his brother around a bit.

"Put me down!" Sammy laughs loudly, his feet not touching the ground as he sways sharply side to side.

"Can I open it!?" Dean asks his father once he does in fact put Sammy down.

"After you get through the rest of your gifts."

"Aww," he whines.

"Oh, I'm sorry Santa was so good to you this year," John says with disbelief. "I think you can handle the wait. Sit, young man."

Dean sits down on the floor at the foot of the couch. He pulls the still boxed gun next to him, keeping it close, and waits as patiently as he can to open the gift that he already knows is going to be his favorite one.

"Alright Santa Sammy, who's up next?" Mary asks.

Sammy lights right back up and keeps going with his job at hand. A half hour later and all the gifts are opened and the living room is a mess of colored paper and ribbon but the two boys of the house are very happy campers.

"Can you open this for me now?" Dean asks John with hopeful eyes as he holds the big box with his Nerf gun in it up to him. Even with the horde of other gifts this one is his favorite.

"Yes," John smiles down at him. "Just remember to share with your brother. Don't leave him out."

The devilish smile on Dean's lips should have tipped off his father.

Once the huge Nerf dart gun is opened and assembled, Dean is off to his room, calling for Sammy to follow. Soon enough he has Sammy standing against the wall with a stuffed teddy bear sitting atop his head.

"Alright, Sammy, don't move. Ok?" Dean says to his brother from across the room.

"Ok, Dean," Sammy smiles right back, so excited to be included in his brother's fun. Usually Dean wants to play with the older kids in the neighborhood and leaves Sammy behind. He's too young is what he's always told. But right now here they are, his big brother that he wants to be just like is letting him pay with him… and with the toy he picked out for him none the less. Christmas is great!

"Ready?" Dean asks, hoisting up the large plastic gun and trying to take aim as best he can with it.

"Ready!" Sammy shouts back, so excited.

And Dean pulls the trigger.

"Ow!" Sammy laughs a bit as Dean's aim is way off. He gets hit in the stomach with one of the foam darts. He giggles more when he covers hand over where he was hit. "You missed!"

Dean doesn't laugh back. He just stares at Sammy and says, "I didn't miss."

And that's what Sammy realizes his hand is wet. Looking down, the teddy bear falling to the carpet as he does, he sees red covering his fingers. And then the pain hits.

"Ow! Dean, it hurts!" he shouts to his brother for help as he falls onto his knees.

Dean doesn't move and that's when Sammy really starts to get scared.

"Dean! Help!" he yells for his brother's assistance and starts to cry with panic. He can already hear his parents making their way up the stairs quickly. Peering up at Dean through watery eyes he sees the boy take aim again, this time at the closed door while waiting. "Don't do that, Dean!"

When the door flies open, Mary only gets one step into the room before Dean shoots again. She drops heavily to the floor instantly, the bullet hole in her forehead bleeding already.

John rounds the corner after her and trips over her body when he doesn't see her there. He falls hard and then looks back at what made him trip.

"Mary!?" he screams when he sees her opened and unfocused eyes. "Oh God, no! Mary!?" He scrambles to her and tries to wake her up, knowing it isn't worth the effort.

"She's gone, dad," Dean tells him quietly and calmly.

"What happened?" John asks, panic still ruling his better senses.

Dean smiles wide, his eyes turning black, as Sammy watches him step up to his father.

"I did," Dean tells him and aims once more, shooting his father in the temple at point blank range with his plastic gun.

"Dad!" Sammy cries as he lies down on his side, the pain too much for his little body to take anymore. "Dad!? Mom!?"

"This isn't for you, Sammy," Dean tells him, moving closer. He takes a seat next to his little brother and brushes his too long hair out of his eyes, his strands wet with sweat. "This isn't meant for you."

"Why?" Sammy cries hard, his stomach protesting with the exertion.

"Because…" Dean tells him, his eyes returning to green. "We're supposed to be sad. We don't get to be happy."

"Dean…." Sammy sobs out, getting weaker by the second.

"Goodbye, Sammy."

Dean aims his toy gun again and shoots Sammy right in the forehead. Everything goes black.

And the horror is over. Sam remembers where he is through the dark emptiness. That was the Christmas he's always wanted to have but never got to… and it was ruined by the devil. He knows where he is again.

He's still in the cage, where even on Christmas it's worse than hell.

* * *

It's been two hours. Dinner is in the oven, sides are premade, pies ready to be baked, and she's all alone.

This is all her fault.

Lizzy knew that picture was a risky move. She knew that this gift could trigger something terrible for him on a day that's supposed to be happy. She even hesitated to give it to him for Christmas at all, thinking he might just crumble with it. Now she worries that she was right to think twice.

So while he walks off his emotions she set to work to avoid her own. She cooked and baked and hoped she could make her way back into his good graces through his stomach. It's shallow but it's all she has right now.

"Finally," she whispers to herself from the couch as she can hear the front door open and close against the windy, cold day. She sighs in relief just to know he's home again.

Dean lets Cass off his leash. He watches the dog race up the stairs, sure that he wants to check out the kitchen with the delicious smells coming from it. While kicking off his boots and shrugging off his winter coat he starts to feel guilty.

He shouldn't have run off like that. Lizzy meant well, he knows she did, and the gift is truly thoughtful. It was just too difficult to suddenly see that image of he and Sam, one in which they were so happy and will never happen again, and not have been prepared for it. The day was hard enough as it is.

He makes his way up the stairs, catching sight of Cass sitting calmly with his tail wagging in front of the oven, and makes his way down the hall to where he knows Lizzy is. He can hear A Christmas Story playing from there.

"Welcome back," she warmly welcomes him as he heads her way. Dean drops down onto the couch next to her, getting under the blanket she had over her and cuddling right up next to her. He wraps his arms around her silently and hugs her in hard. The whole time he was out, tossing the tennis ball with Cass and walking aimlessly, he just needed this.

Lizzy holds him close, so happy that he isn't angry with her.

"Baby, I'm sorry," she apologizes quietly. "I didn't want to upset you…"

"It's ok," Dean assures her right back, his head, turned in to her neck and inhaling her scent with a growing sense of belonging. It was nice to have that, to have an actual place to call home and a person to call his. "I shouldn't have just up and left."

"You're freezing," Lizzy says as he shivers against her once.

"It colder than fucking Siberia out there," he tells her. "Fuck New England."

Lizzy sighs with a smile.

"Want coffee?" she asks, backing away from the hug to look at him.

Dean nods. Lizzy then cups his face and kisses him sweetly once before smiling fondly.

"I'm glad you're here again," she says with total love and gets up to get his hot drink.

Wrapping up tightly in the blanket as he shivers away the winter day, he looks over at the coffee table. The picture is still there. This time he looks at it more closely. He doesn't see the scene frozen in time as a sad thing. He now looks at it for exactly what it is. Perfectly captured happiness.

Dean realizes then how young Sam looks when he laughs like that, really laughs. It wasn't often that they had moments like this in their adult lives but when they did Dean could see his Sammy in there. No matter what Sam saw, went through, experienced, felt in his life that dragged him down or made him miserable he was still that young kid deep down. He still wanted to laugh and be simple.

In that moment he had that. Dean can't help but enjoy at that fact.

"You remember why you guys were laughing?" as she sits down and hands over his steaming mug of coffee… which may or may not be Irish style.

"No," Dean admits to her while wrapping the mug up with his frozen fingers.

"We were pulled over in the middle of Colorado," she begins explaining to him as she cuddles up to his side. Dean pulls her in with an arm around her shoulder and they both look at the picture as she talks. "It'd been almost 24 hours of driving and we needed a break. You pulled over after a beer stop and we just kinda hung out. At one point you told me that you knew for a fact that I couldn't get my leg behind my head."

"Why were we talking about that?" Dean asks, very vaguely starting to recall the moment.

"Who the fuck knows," Lizzy huffs as most of the conversations the three of them had were ridiculous to some extent. "So Sam then bet me fifty bucks to do. Well, you know I'm not one to turn down a bet and since I have pretty much zero shame these days I went for it."

"Oh shit!" Dean smiles so widely when it comes back to him. "Fuck! You split your pants!"

"Bingo," Lizzy says, confirming he's correct while her cheeks flash a pink color. The moment was awfully embarrassing the second it happened.

"Oh my God!" Dean starts laughing hard. "That was so funny!"

"At least you two thought so," Lizzy grumbles. "When I saw how hard you guys were laughing I pulled out my phone from my split jeans and snapped this."

"Holy fuck that was great!" Dean says, doubled over just like in the picture.

"Yeah, just peachy," she sarcastically responds. "I was down a pair of pants and when you live out of a car you can't afford to lose anything."

"Ah, ha," Dean chokes out his laugh as he calms down. He wipes his eyes from more tears today but luckily it was different this time. "You know that when I look at this picture I'm just gonna see you on the ground with your leg almost behind your head and your underwear hanging out of a rip in your pants, right?"

"Well aware," she smiles to him. "I just figure it's worth the past humiliation to see those two smiles on my wall every day."

Dean huffs one last laugh and looks at her with a smile, a real one. He pulls her into himself again and kisses her gratefully. She's awesome.

"Thank you," he tells her. "It's a good gift."

"You're welcome." She cuddles in closer to him and leans her head on his shoulder. They quietly watch A Christmas Story, Lizzy only speaking to recite lines like she used to with her parents on Christmas Day when it was on in their household, and they try to keep the day cheerful and light… without forgetting the family members that didn't make it to this holiday.

* * *

 


	34. January 2nd

* * *

Lizzy nearly skips into the living room and takes a seat next to Dean. He doesn't look up at her as much as she might want him to. He's busy trying to figure out how to pay Harvest Moon on Lou's guitar.

It sounds to Lizzy like he's having some trouble, the notes not really blending the way they should for the classic song, and she can see the tension in his shoulders as he grows frustrated. He expects so much out of himself when he really has only been playing for a handful of months  _and_  he's self-taught. His expectations are so high.

"Fuck," Dean quietly complains as he drops his right hand away from the strings in defeat. He peers over at her. "I suck."

"You definitely don't suck," she assures him with a soft grin.

"Yeah, well, not sure I'm ready for this one."

"You're just hard on yourself," Lizzy tells him. "Have patience."

"Yeah," Dean agrees and moves to start playing again. Lizzy grabs his wrist before he can.

"Before you keep pissing yourself off… can I take the plastic off?" Her eyes light up with sheer excitement as she hopes for a positive answer.

"Has it been long enough?"

"It's been five hours," she tells him.

"No shit," Dean responds with surprise, setting aside the guitar on the floor propped against the couch. He completely lost track of time. "Alright."

"Yes!" Lizzy cheers like a child and stands up, pulling his hand with her.

"Jesus, excited much?" Dean complains with her over the top happiness.

"So fucking excited," she responds giddily and brings him into the bathroom. The second they step inside she's telling him, "Shirt off!"

Dean doesn't say anything, just sheds his unbuttoned flannel and t-shirt with a slight smile. He's kind of excited himself but he'd never let her know that. Real men don't get excited. They maintain.

"Oh man, I bet this come out great," she grins anxiously. He can see her in the mirror behind him, studying with eyes filled with awe and she looks just downright adorable.

"It better have," he tells her. "If it didn't I blame you for a shitty Christmas gift."

"Nah, this is the best Christmas gift ever," she rebuts as she moves him to stand sideways so she can access the sink while she works.

Slowly and very carefully, Lizzy starts to peel back the medical tape holding the plastic wrap onto his left shoulder blade. She takes her time, not wanting to pull at the artwork underneath.

"Still can't believe you actually did it," Lizzy comments as she works.

"Hey, I can handle the pain," he says with a little offense.

"It's not the pain I questioned," she says, halfway done. "It's just that you never mentioned wanting a tattoo before. I was going way out on a limb with this gift idea. It's awesome that you did it."

"I'm not against tattoos… clearly," he smirks to her as she has several and he loves them on her.

"Clearly," she laughs a bit while echoing him.

"I just never had anything I wanted so badly it had to be branded on my skin. That's a big decision."

"Yes it is," she agrees.

"But this one made sense," Dean continues.

"Glad you think so," she says, the smile never leaving her face. She and her tattoo artist did a lot of research and tweaking until this one was just right. She's ecstatic that he likes it so much. "Alright, let's take a look."

She takes a towel and presses it to his back under the design. She then takes a cup she brought in there earlier and fills it with just slightly warm water. Pouring it slowly down his skin, the towel catching the run off, Lizzy cleans the antibiotic ointment from the fresh, done-that-afternoon tattoo.

Once done, the clear solution cleaned off, she gingerly pats him dry, careful not to disrupt the tender skin.

"Damn. Mitch fucking rocks at his job," she comments as she backs up a bit to take a look. The lines are clean and sharp, shadowing done expertly, the size is just right, and the all black ink tattoo stands out perfectly on the wide and smooth expanse of his back. "Baby, this looks amazing."

Dean turns and angles himself in the big bathroom mirror, getting a glimpse. "Shit. That's pretty fucking badass, isn't it?"

"So badass," Lizzy immediately concurs. "Fuck, I love it!"

"Yeah…" Dean looks it over some more, seeing the representation of his family, his blood, permanently there.

"But do  _you_  love it!?"

"Yeah, I do," Dean honestly tells her, not taking his eyes off the tattoo for a second. "Shit. That's always gonna be there."

"Yep, just like me," Lizzy remarks in an annoying voice. "Couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

"Damn straight," he says, turning to her.

"Man, you look…" Lizzy starts but pauses as she looks into the mirror, catching the dark ink on his upper back. She breathes in deep and hums her turn on as she sighs. "Fucking hot."

"It's doing it for you?" Dean asks, knowing already by the hungry look in her eyes that it is.

"You have no idea," she near giggles like a much younger girl. "And I thought you were sexy before..." She steps up to him and runs her hands over his chest, her right hand dancing over the protection tattoo. "You just got, like, ten times sexier."

"That was possible?" Dean jokes with a smile.

"Never thought so but yeah, it was," Lizzy says with a slick smile as she brings a hand to the back of his head. She pulls him closer slowly. "It totally was." She kisses him slow and deep, the way she does when she wants to get him naked and have a nice, take-our-time kind of go at him. She's always at her sexiest during those times, when her body would seem to actually slither and move with sheer slinky sex.

Her hands move deliberately and soak him in, something about the new tattoo really setting her off.

"I'm getting a new one of these once a week," Dean fires out between insanely passionate kisses.

"I'm ok with that," Lizzy quickly tells him before letting her tongue slide against his languidly. "Fuck. Let's go."

She grabs his hand and attempts to pull him out of the room and towards their bed. Dean stops her when she turns her back to him as now he's just plain curious.

"Hold up," he says and pulls her back in. "I wanna see yours."

"It looks just like yours," she shrugs it off and tries again. "Come on."

"No, no, no. Wait." He pulls her harder and she stumbles back into him, bumping onto his bare chest. "I wanna see."

"Baby, trust me, it can wait…" Lizzy nearly pleads as she looks up at him, her hand running over the bulge now there in his pants.

"You'll still be horny as fuck after I check yours out. Lemme see," Dean says to her with pure certainly and gently turns her so her right side is to him.

Dean takes his time, his fingers running around her waist just under her shirt before lifting it over her head. Once it's gone he places a kiss on the side of her neck.

"Not helping your cause here, Hot Shot," she warns him with the feel of his lips as it makes her shiver slightly with want.

"You'll survive," he smiles at her. He then gets to work peeling back the plastic of her own new tattoo. Her original thought was to add the artwork to her sleeve that she's been working on for years. Everything meaningful is on her left arm, from the date her parents passed away to the pinup of Lou in remembrance to the anti-possession symbol at her wrist that Dean made her get just days after meeting her. Her whole life is written on her arm… but not this one. The Winchester family coat of arms gets its own special place. It means too much.

So she decided to place it somewhere she's always thought about getting a tattoo but never did.

"Damn," Dean says quietly as he washes away the last of the antibiotic ointment from her side, just at her ribcage. Her smooth skin, something that always succeeds in absolutely turning him on, is now permanently changed. She shocked him with her choice in placement. Her sleeve is a pride point for her but she kept this one out of that. He knew it meant something huge that she did that.

And now he's speechless. Seeing her standing there, his family's name on her forever, he's starting to think he couldn't possible love her any more than he does right now. And it makes him think about their lives together, their family.

"What, Mitch misspell something?" she jokes when he doesn't speak. She's very aware that isn't it because Mitch is the best in the biz, but Dean's silence makes her wonder.

"No… ah," he clears his throat. "No. It's just that… it's perfect."

His tone is what gets her. When Lizzy studies his face she sees something on him she didn't expect to find; sadness.

"What's wrong?" she asks right away as she turns to him and rests her hands on his shoulders while looking up to him with concern.

"I… I ah, just… this made me think of Sam." His face wrinkles with the pain of his honesty as he tries desperately to not cry.

Instantly her arms are around his neck, pulling him into a hug. She doesn't get it at all but fuck if she doesn't know when she's needed. They stand there for a moment, Dean trying to compose himself and Lizzy waiting it out.

When Dean backs away first, a hand washing down his face with sorrow, Lizzy grabs his other hand in hers.

"What's this about?" Lizzy wonders sweetly.

"You're one of us," Dean starts to explain. "You're a Winchester."

"Have been for a while now," she smiles softly at him.

"And that's exactly what Sam wanted."

She shakes her head without understanding the connection.

"He, ah…" Dean sighs. "You remember when he came here during the snowstorm to save our asses with his demon blood bullshit?"

"How could I forget?" Lizzy asks, knowing she couldn't have. Laraje was one evil bitch of a terrible demon and if it weren't for Sam they were totally fucked. Even if he psychically exorcized her he did save them.

"After that weekend, he said something to me that kinda… stuck…" he trails off and sighs. "He told me that we needed you."

"You do," she jokes very lightly but he doesn't crack a smile in return.

"I know… but even he already saw it. Sam and I both knew that without you I was a mess… but… he, he felt the same too, that he'd be a mess too. Sam said he needed you. He said you were family, real family, and…."

Taking a deep breath when the story gets too rough, he pushes through.

"He said it felt like he finally could understand what he missed out on."

Lizzy questions him with her expression alone, not exactly getting it.

"Life with mom…" Dean says and swallows hard so he can continue. "He could… get it, get what it felt like. Even then… fuck, you accepted him even then, when he was all fucked up and using his psychic shit. You have always… always accepted Sam for who he is no matter what. You showed him what family life was supposed to be."

She nods as her eyes glaze over. She didn't realize her efforts were so appreciated. Lizzy tried her damnedest to give them all they'd lost; a person to rely on that's warm and understanding, a sense of home, a loving nurse when sick and a caring shoulder when the world was just to evil to handle… everything life felt they hadn't earned when Lizzy knew so much better.

"He needed a home," she shrugs, simple as that as her eyes spill over. Sure she's gotten better at controlling her emotions but this conversation was too heavy. She didn't stand a chance.

"I know, I know. And you gave him that… something I could never figure out how do for him. I tried, fuck did I try… but with you it was different," Dean says as her tears make his own start to overflow. "Sam just… he fucking loved you so much and not because he had to because of me." He wipes at the tears with his free hand. "I don't know what you said to him before we took off that weekend but… he said…" He sighs and sniffles.

"What?" Lizzy's choked voice asks.

"Said if I screwed this up with you it'd be the biggest mistake of my life and I'd always regret it. And he didn't say in some joke or as a way to give me shit because you were cool and I was a commitment-phobe. He meant it. He wanted you in."

Lizzy lets out a small laugh as she cries. "Always knew he was the smart one."

"Yeah," Dean returns and they both stand there, trying to calm and wiping away the tears for a few minutes. "Seeing that tattoo on you, and what it means… made me think about how Sam wanted you in the family and how you've really belonged to him as much as me. I couldn't have asked for more than that out of you ever."

Lizzy smiles through her fresh wave of sorrow as Dean spins her wedding rings around her finger while holding her hand, a nervous movement for sure. He may have gotten better at this emotional talking bullshit but it never felt better. It still makes him anxious and feel like he's under a microscope, even with his own wife.

"He did a lot for me too," Lizzy admits as she watches his nervous tick. "He became my best friend when I lost mine. He picked up my pieces as much as I picked up his. Your brother helped put me back together every fucking time I crumbled. Baby, I will love Sam until the day I die… past that even. And being a part of this family, there is nothing that means more to me.  _Nothing_. I wear the name with pride."

"Literally," Dean flatly adds and she Lizzy huffs a soft and quiet laugh at this one.

"I do now," she smiles right back through her copious tears. She reaches to him and cups his face before pulling him down to kissing him once. "I love you."

"Love you too."

"And I love my name," she tells him. "You and Sam gave that to me."

He takes a moment to stare at the greatest gift he's ever been given since the day his little brother was born and just enjoys it for what it is. He knows how cold life would be without her right now, how dark and worthless… how, if he's being painfully truthful with himself, he most likely wouldn't be alive right now. He'd surely have given up once Sam was gone if she hadn't been there to yank him out of the horrible, dark pit he dug himself into.

"Can I see the other one?" he asks her suddenly, looking for at least a momentary distraction… even if it'll probably make him sad all over again.

"You gonna cry again if I let you?" Lizzy asks him. "Because if you start up again then I'll cry too and it'll be a fucking mess in here…"

"Shut up and lemme see," Dean lightly says to her.

Smiling up at him, she dries her eyes and moves to stand in front of the sink. She starts to peel back the second plastic wrap patch she has taped to the back of her forearm just below her elbow. Dean watches intently, this second tattoo a surprise to him when he got to the shop. She didn't tell him about this one until they walked in.

"Shit, this is sicker than I thought it was," she tells him while running her arm under the faucet. Once patted dry, Dean takes her arm in his hand and looks down at her representation of Sam on her coveted sleeve.

"It's perfect," Dean says quietly as he appreciates the design. It's a simple script, Latin words in a small paragraph with the date Sam sacrificed himself under it. He reads it over again;

_Frater meus_ _._

_S_ _angui_ _s meus_ _._

_Salvator meus_ _._

_SW - May 13, 2010_

"I love it," Lizzy adds in. "I even researched it to make sure I got the wording right."

"He'd be proud," Dean smiles small while his heart is heavy.

"Yeah he would," she agrees.

Looking at her for moment, Dean smiles despite his heavy heart and reddened eyes. "You're making me a fucking pussy, you know that?"

"You're not a pussy," Lizzy tells him and wraps her arms around his waist. With her cheek pressed to his bare chest, his heart beating loudly in her ear as his own arms close around her, she lets him know, "Just more in touch with your feminine side than ever before…"

"Fucking great," Dean grumbles to her comment as he drops his chin on the top of her head with an eye roll.

"I think it is," she tells him the truth while looking up at him.

"Of course you do," Dean responds. "You've always liked your men all girly and wimpy."

"Well that's just not true at all," Lizzy rebuts. She's always loved the bad boys, the kinds that are tough to crack. If a guy drank too much, had piss and vinegar in his veins, and seemed like he could kill a man with his bare hands… well she was practically dropping her panties for him immediately.

"Yeah it is," Dean backs away from her. "You get all tingly when a dude talks about his feelings."

"Shut up," she pushes him lightly.

"And when they wanna cuddle and watch chick flicks you…"

"Stop it," she warns him, pointing at him and wiping her eyes with her other hand. "You know I hate that shit."

"Yeah," he smirks, huffing one quiet little laugh with their suddenly much easier for him to handle banter. She even knows how to make a moment that's clearly way too heavy for him to handle comfortably much more manageable very quickly.

"I like my men to be men," she defends herself as she walks to the sink. She starts to gather up the plastic squares that are on the edge of the ceramic. "You start going too soft on me and I will drop you so fast you'll be crying into your frou-frou chamomile tea in no time."

"Oh sweetheart," Dean starts slickly while she tosses out the plastic. "No girl has ever accused me of being soft."

Shaking her head with a smile, Lizzy turns around to find Dean standing right in her space, his hands already reaching to pull her in.

Dean kisses her. For everything that she is, that she does, that she understands about him, he can't help but need to be with her constantly.

"So… you cry your eyes out and then want to have sex?" Lizzy asks him with a slick smile between deep, seriously sexy kisses that pull her right back into her former frame of mind she had when she first saw his new tattoo.

"Hey, you started it," he accuses and kisses her one more time. "I'm just trying to get you back to where you were a few minutes ago when you were about to make my night awesome."

"Turn around again?" she says to him with a wink. He does as she asks and the second that she sees that tattoo again she's right back to where she was. "Mm, yeah," she tells him, her hands immediately smoothing over his muscular back. "That's right. I got it now."

When he feels her lips pressed to the center of his back it's over. He turns sharply around, picks her up quickly, and starts marching his way down the hallway towards their bedroom.

* * *

 


	35. January 12th, 22nd, and 23rd (Part 1)

* * *

"Hey baby," Lizzy greets as she walks into the living room after getting home from the self-defense center, dropping her oversized bag on the comfy chair as she does. Cass follows her into the room after having greeted her in the usual frenzy of excitement by the door and then lies down in his comfy dog bed in the corner.

"Hey," Dean absently answers as his focus remains on the television.

Lizzy plops down onto the couch next to him, her legs folded under her and body turned to face him. With a quick peck on his cheek she steals the beer out of his hand.

"Whacha watching?" she asks while taking a big gulp from the bottle.

"Shark week," is his simple explanation, his eyes never leaving the screen. "So awesome."

"Can you peel yourself away from the awesome sharks for a second to talk to me?" Lizzy requests and when he turns to look suspiciously at her she just grins wide and hands back his beer.

"Alright," Dean sighs unhappily with a swig of beer as he pauses the show he's watching. Ah, the wonders of modern television technology. Recording shows automatically, pausing live programs… Dean's still getting used to the luxury of it all.

"So…" Lizzy starts and Dean immediately rolls his eyes.

"Just tell me what I did."

"You didn't do anything bad," she laughs quietly at his pessimism. "I'm not mad or anything, I promise."

"Riiiight," he answers disbelieving while downing more booze.

"So when you were working on the Mustang earlier, I was on the computer," she begins to tell him. "And I think you forgot to close out some stuff you'd been looking at on there."

Narrowing his eyes, Dean thinks back on his day. Got up late, hungover. Ate something around ten. Drank a few beers before noon and lied to Lizzy about it. Got bored when she left for the lunch shift at the bar. She wore the tight jeans that made her ass look amazing. Got horny and jerked off to porn. Porn. He forgot to close out the porn on her computer.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Dean shrugs off. He's a bit surprised at her for bringing this up as an issue though. She knows he watches porn. Hell, she watches porn. She told him so. God that's so fucking hot to him for some reason.

"Oh, I don't care that you were watching porn," Lizzy assures with a grin as she really doesn't care at all. "I was just kind of surprised by the  _type_  of porn you had been watching."

Thinking back once again, Dean recalls what he'd chosen for his viewing pleasure today.

"It was a bit… hardcore," Lizzy adds hesitantly. "I mean, there was some serious… dominating stuff in there." She was a bit taken with what she saw in that video of his choosing. It was a slave video, something she'd never seen before, and it was pretty shockingly rough.

Dean nods in confirmation but stays quiet as he isn't sure if she's cool with it, turned off by it, or whatever else she might think. Good move, Dean. He should be used to covering his tracks as that's what he's done his entire old life. He's getting rusty in his new life.

"So I gotta know," she continues. "Is that something you're really into?"

"Clearly." Dean sits, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"No, no. I mean is that, like, something you're really into and would want to actually do… not just watch?"

Looking at her curious expression, he's still lost as to how he should be answering. Ah fuck it. It's just Lizzy. Tell the truth. She's shocked him before with her openness and she could easily do it again.

"Yes," Dean simply tells her.

"Why?"

"Because," Dean says while scrunching up his face and thinking hard. He's never thought about it before. "I think it's a control thing. You already know I like taking charge…"

"Yes!" she answers loudly with a smile. "And you know I love that too."

"Well aware," he says with a little slick tone in there. "But this is way more than we've ever done."

"So I saw," Lizzy grins warmly, telling him it's ok to talk about this. "But why would you want to take it that far? Why  _so_  controlling?"

Dean sits for a second and thinks it over. "I think… having that kinda control would be…"

"Good for a change?" Lizzy finishes for him, having already figure this one out while at work. She had plenty of time to consider it all.

"Yeah."

"Since you feel like you never have control over anything in life… which you totally don't…"

"It'd be nice to feel like I do somewhere." Jesus Christ. It's even annoying to him the way they finish each other's thoughts like that.

"Would you want to do that with me?"

"Excuse me?" Dean narrows his eyes at her with the insane offer that he never saw coming.

"You heard me," Lizzy grins. "Do you want that?"

"Come on. There's no way you'd do that," Dean adamantly says to her.

"Why would you think that?" she calmly pries.

"L, are you serious?" Dean asks her, thinking the reasoning should be obvious to her. "You're hardheaded as all hell. You don't ever take shit from anyone. You're telling me you could take full direction from someone else and not question it or say no to anything? Yeah, right. I smell bullshit."

Lizzy sighs loudly and nods in understanding. "I know I'm not easy, ok?"

"Good," Dean huffs, glad she gets how patient and yielding he has to be with her most of the time. To say she's a tough chick would be an understatement.

"And I know I am harder headed than most chicks and stubborn as fuck to boot. You have always been awesome in dealing with my pain in the ass ways. And I totally get why you'd maybe get turned on by the idea of telling me what to do and never getting questioned about it since I am so independent pretty much always. It makes sense that you'd want to get your way with me completely."

"Where you going with this, L?" Dean cautiously asks, his hopes already high enough and ready to be crushed.

"You should've come to me with this earlier on," Lizzy informs him. "I'm willing to give it a go."

"Don't fuck with me like that. It's not funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny!" Lizzy laughs, pushing him in jest. "Seriously, I think you're forgetting how needy I sometimes get with you."

"Yeah, but this is a whole different thing, Lizzy," Dean has to make sure she understands. "This is props and bondage kinda shit. We're talking safe word here. I don't know if you're fully aware of what you're in for if you say yes to this."

"Ok then, we'll talk guidelines beforehand," Lizzy shrugs. "I'm sure for obvious reasons with all you've seen in life you probably have certain things you can't deal with doing, and I'm sure if I think it over that I have things that I can't handle having done to me. There will be boundaries."

"You're really serious here," Dean states more than asks with her planning.

"Yes," Lizzy answers immediately. "I thought about it all day while at work and honestly, I think it'll be fun and really liberating in a way, for me at least."

"How do you figure?" How she came to find total dependence freeing he definitely doesn't understand.

Lizzy pauses and just looks at him for a beat. "Dean, I've been living a pretty hard and fucked up life for a long time now. I've had to be on edge and make difficult decisions constantly. Shit, I've been grappling for some kind of, I don't know, composure I guess for a very, very long time. With you and Sam, I've been trying for years to do everything I can to help you and make you happier and better and I'm still doing it with you to this day. I'm exhausted. I think having the opportunity to not think or have to make a single decision and just be free from all that… damn it, I welcome it all."

Lizzy sighs when the explanation flows way too easily from her mouth.

"Wow," she continues. "I don't think I realized just how bad I myself might need this."

"We're  _so_  fucked up," Dean says with a huff of a laugh as he drops a hand on her knee.

"No shit," Lizzy smiles wide. "So, happy birthday, Hot Shot. You're big three-one is on a Sunday so I say we do a don't-leave-the-house, Lizzy-is-Dean's-slave day. And I'll board Cass for the day."

"You think you have to?" Dean wonders with surprise at her suggestion as the dog calmly walks to her side and sits next to her with the sound of his name.

"Do you think this guy will let you get away with any kind of rough treatment of me while he's here?" Lizzy cocks an eyebrow at Dean while petting Cass. "He'll tear you apart first and you know it."

"Good point." Dean would never want to be on the receiving end of Cass' protective nature towards either of them.

"So… we on?"

Speechless, Dean leans forward and kisses her hard on the lips in thanks. She's amazing. Lizzy has always said she'd do anything for him and once more she's proving it.

"You really want to do this?" Dean parts their lips and makes sure. "I'm not going into this without knowing you're totally sure that you'll get something out of this too."

"Dean, be serious here. I'm as much of a sexual pervert as you are."

"Yeah you are," Dean slyly responds with a proud grin.

"And you already know I love when you take over anyways. This will just be… magnified."

Dean sighs while looking at her. "You're awesome."

"Oh, I know," she laughs his compliment away. "So we've got two weeks to think this over. I say that we sort out our limits a couple days before and then go for it."

" _Please_  shake my hand right now and make this official before you change your mind," Dean asks of her while holding out his hand.

"Happily," Lizzy smiles and shakes on it.

"You are in so much trouble," Dean laughs quietly to himself as he pulls her into his lap, the images of what he already has planned playing through his head as he kills the last of his beer. He's still not convinced that she knows what she's just signed up for.

"I sure hope so," Lizzy says right back before leaving a burning, excited kiss on his lips.

* * *

"Two days and counting."

Dean looks up from the laptop on the coffee table to see her extended hand, a glass of whiskey being offered to him. He takes it with a slight smile.

"Don't remind me," Dean complains with a hefty sip as he sits back on the couch, Lizzy joining him. She relaxes into the corner of the back and arm and drops her feet into his lap.

"What, you don't like being old?" Lizzy smirks and he refuses to play into her making fun. He simply sighs instead. "Don't do that, huh?"

"Do what?"

"Do the depressed thing right now. It's you fucking birthday! You should be excited!"

Looking at her he knows she's clearly very much looking forward to the day.

"It's just another year down, L," Dean says while studying his glass. "Another year that I'm surprisingly still alive, unlike the rest of my family. Lucky me."

Instead of open that family oriented can of worms, Lizzy changes the subject. They're both messes with losing Sam and having the knowledge of where he is. It's a heavy burden they both bare, but she needs him to focus elsewhere and try to move past it enough to live a life. Sam wanted them to be happy, it was his one request with his ultimate sacrifice, and damn it, Lizzy will abide by it.

"Exactly. Lucky you. And now you get to actually celebrate your one day of the year that's all about you for once. No shitty, store bought pie and a quick night of drunk sex before heading out on a hunt this time. We have lives now and we're gonna take advantage and celebrate."

Dean peers at her with something thankful in his eyes. She tries so damn hard to make him happy at all times that sometimes he feels so guilty about the way he's acted for this past half year. She'll never give up on him. Never.

"So, can we talk about your birthday, speaking of?" Lizzy grins excitedly. "I believe we have some sorting out to do."

"Ok," he agrees with a smile, a real smile. God damn does he look forward to that day.

"Ok, so let's start with boundaries since that's what's kinda freaking me out the most," she starts off. "What are yours… I mean, if they actually exist."

Shaking his head with a grin, Dean flips it. "Honestly, I think it's a little more important to know what your boundaries are in the situation."

"You're probably right." Lizzy takes down a big gulp of whiskey and prepares to explain herself. "Ok, um. So I think ropes kinda have to be left out. Ropes and I have not been friends for a long while now considering..."

"Makes sense," Dean nods. Being tied up generally had a different, more sinister and anxiety filled effect on them as hunters than it would on the average, kink-filled person. "No ropes. Done."

Nodding, Lizzy continues. "Just, uh, being tied down in general… like, completely immobile and to one place has been ruined for me. I'm pretty sure a panic attack could follow."

"What about partially?" Dean wonders. "Like… cuffs?"

"That's fine. Done it before, right?" She sends him an eyebrow wag.

"Right," he grins right back with the memories it brings him.

"I think as long as I have  _some_  freedom of movement and I'm not stuck in one place I'll be totally good and not panic-attackish," Lizzy lets him know.

"Yeah, not looking to make that happen."

"I would hope not," she laughs back. "And honestly, that was my only really big thing I could come up with. Um, other than that… the only thing I am worried about is pain I guess."

"No," Dean shakes his head instantly. "That's not really part of what I'm looking for in this."

"Good," she sighs her relief.

"Not sure I have in me to do that to you anyways."

"Not sure I'd have it in me to not take a swing at you if you did." Lizzy slow motions mimes a punch to his cheek. Dean, pretending to get hit and slowly reeling his head back, elicits a laugh from her.

"And I don't think that'd be a good thing for me anyways… opening that door…." Dean remarks, returning his focus to her and taking her glass, pulling down a sip now that his is done. He's had his fair share of doling out pain in the past and putting her in that category just feels wrong.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Dean tries to explain, but his voice fails him for a moment. He clears his throat. "The whole whips and chains thing… not really something I can, uh, do. Not after what I've done… in the past and all. They hold a different meaning now."

"Shit. Never thought of it that way," Lizzy tells him when it clicks for her. Combining sex and hell-adjacent anything does feel like it would be a very bad idea. "Ok, so no ropes, no crazy pain. I think I can live with that."

"Me too," Dean smiles small while still a little worried. "What about a safe word?"

"Already thought of one," she smiles wide right back as she turns towards him a little more. "Ready?"

"Shoot."

"Goo Goo Dolls," Lizzy answers with pride. "Because just like taking something too far with sex, the Goo Goo Dolls always ruin a good time."

Dean laughs with her answer, completely agreeing with her choice. "I like it."

"Knew you would."

"L, I gotta ask one more time because once we actually start in on this thing, I'm going for the gold here. Are you sure, like, one-hundred percent sure that you can do this… and you want this."

Curling a finger to beckon him over, Dean leans over to her and lets her pull him into a kiss. Considering the subject matter at hand, her innocent kiss seemed slightly out of place but understandable.

"I want this," she tells him, keeping him close. "I trust you completely and I think this will be good for both of us."

"Couldn't agree more."

* * *

"Hey Hot Shot," Lizzy greets when she answers her phone behind the desk of the self-defense center midafternoon.

"What size shoe are you?" Dean wonders on the other end of the phone.

"Excuse me?" Lizzy laughs with his unexpected question.

"Shoe size. What is it?"

"Why do you need to know that?" she pries while a mother and son come into the office to ask her a question. Lizzy hold out her index finger and smiles to ask silently for them to wait.

"Just answer the question, huh?"

"Eight," she tells him while completely confused. "Are you, like, buying me shoes?"

"Stop questioning my genius."

"Oh, so you're a genius now?"

"Always have been."

"You're really not gonna tell me why you're asking, are you?"

"Nope," she can practically hear him smiling from the other end. "See you tonight."

Dean ends the call, leaving Lizzy wondering, and looks back to the sales woman in front of him. "Eight's the magic number."

"Sounds good," she smiles to him as she pulls a shoe box from the shelf they're in front of and holds it in her tattooed arms. "Was there anything else I could help you out with today?"

"Uh," Dean starts to think as he looks over the fairly full shopping basket in his hand. "Not sure."

The dark haired, tongue pierced woman looks up to him with a smirk of excitement. "I have plenty I could suggest for you if you have the time."

"I got all the time in the world, sweetheart," Dean grins back, trusting her obvious excitement over helping him.

"Come with me," the woman says and starts making her way around the sex shop to the far wall. She talks as they walk. "So, from what you've got tucked away in that basket there, I'm starting to get a picture of what you and your lucky… uh, lady?"

"Yes, lady," Dean quickly confirms.

"I'm getting what you and your lady are looking for."

"Guess I didn't make it much of a secret, did I?" Looking at his choices so far he'd agree that he was being obvious. Good thing shame wasn't part of Dean's sexual vocabulary.

"Not at all, and I like that you're so open about it. Most people blush and refuse my assistance when asked," she admits when they arrive at the back of the store where the BDSM products are kept. "So first, I have to wonder; is this chick of yours strictly a sex only kind of relationship or is it more than that."

"I'd say more," Dean laughs and hold up his left hand for her to see the silver band on it.

"Mm," the clerk answers while quickly and obviously looking him over top to bottom. "She  _is_  a lucky girl. So that means you're not getting anything that will freak her out since you have to live with her afterwards."

"It's pretty hard to freak her out, but yeah. I'm a lifer."

"Got it. Also, and don't take this the wrong way, but I'm thinking this is your first foray into, say, some of the heavier stuff."

"What makes you say that?" Dean questions, wondering what it is that gave him away.

"When you work here for a while you get to know the clientele," she explains. "I've never seen you before for starters. And you also look like a little kid in a candy store."

"Shit, am I really that transparent?"

"Oh yeah," she grins.

"Damn," Dean huffs his disappointment.

"If you two are beginners…"

"Beginners?" Dean huffs again with the ridiculous label. He and Lizzy beginners with sex? How insane. "Wouldn't quite call us that."

"Ok…" she pauses while narrowing her eyes. "Then do you mind if I ask what you're going for exactly?"

"I don't mind," Dean says as he thinks hard as to how to put it. "The little lady was kind enough to agree to, as she puts, a slave day."

"Excellent," the woman nearly growls. "I can tell you from experience that this will be one hell of a day if done right."

"Really?" Dean pries, though by the familiarity she has with a lot of products in the store he isn't surprised.

"Absolutely. I work here for a reason, my man." She winks while putting down the shoe box for the moment. She then takes his basket from him and looks through it. "You're doing pretty good."

"Thanks," Dean smirks.

"I assume you've talked limits and whatnot?" she asks him in a very businesslike tone.

"We did."

"May I know?" she smiles to him slightly mischievously.

"Ok, uh," Dean starts to answer and suddenly finds himself tongue-tied. "Well, no rope or, you know, complete… immobility."

"Hmm," she looks back to the wall of sexual implements and says more to herself than to Dean, "That's a shame."

"And no crazy painful stuff," he quickly adds in when he gets an eyeful of some seriously scary looking items on the other end of the wall. Maybe he should have been going to sex shops for his hunting supplies all along. That shit looked like it could pack a serious punch.

"It's a control thing then," the woman looks to Dean with a knowing expression.

"Pardon?"

"You're looking for a control high," she tells him.

"Uh, yeah."

"I'm on your page now. I'm gonna do a little swapping out here and there with what you already picked out, if that's ok." She looks up to him with expectant eyes while holding up his basket.

"By all means," Dean gestures with his hand to let the expert do her thing. She clearly knows what she is doing.

The woman takes a few items out and replaces them with ones better suited for Dean's purposes, assuring him. She even pulls a few different items Dean hadn't considered but after she spoke more about what he could do with them he realized he suddenly couldn't live without them.

Once done, Dean now thinking she's the best sales woman on Earth and he's being taken for a bit of a ride, they both head to the register.

"So when's this going down, Dean?" the woman that he'd just found out is named Krista asks him.

"Tomorrow," he tells her with a little spark in his voice, a spark he kind of forgot he had buried in there somewhere. "It's my birthday present."

"Well happy early birthday," she says as she rings in the items and bags them up. "Doesn't leave you much time though."

"Time for what?"

"Planning," she says obviously. "You have to plan some of this out before you dive right in, especially for your first time doing this."

"Uh, I was just gonna wing it," Dean admits to her.

"No way, man," Krista shakes her head. "You gotta know how to get the best use out of these tools to get the best out of her." She sighs while looking at him. "You seem to be pretty comfortable talking about this stuff. You mind if I give you some pointers, help you plan this out a bit?"

Thinking about it for a second while looking over his new and intimidating horde of sexual implements, he's realizing he could use a little guidance. He could easily be in over his head right now.

"No, I don't mind."

"Yes. I was hoping you'd say that," Krista grins widely. "If you take my knowledge for all it's worth, you'll be back here in a couple days to thank me personally."

* * *

 


	36. January 24th (Part 2)

* * *

Feeling him press up against her back, Lizzy smiles to herself in her half asleep status. She sighs before turning over to see him, immediately being greeted by two bright green eyes lit up by the morning sun coming through the bedroom window.

"Mornin' baby," she smiles before kissing him with a little hum of her voice.

"Mornin'," he returns, his giddy grin already in place.

"Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

Kissing him again, Lizzy wraps her arms around his body, hoping to jump start his big day with a little sex. Dean responds at first of course, her warm body welcoming him like always with promise of a wonderful time, but then he remembers he has a plan and a whole set of rules to enforce for the day. She's already taking over and today that's a no-no. Krista warned him about this yesterday at the store after he explained her usually decisive and independent personality and he knows he needs to get out in front of it before it becomes any other day.

"I'm getting up," Dean tells her, pulling away and sitting up in bed.

"Aw, no," she complains, the warmth of their bed and of him just too good to let go of right now. "Let's stay in bed for a little while longer. I'll make it worth it."

"Nope," he quickly denies. "We're both getting up right now. Come on."

He stands up and turns around to hold his hand out for her to take.

"Fine," Lizzy rolls her eyes and obliges him. It's  _his_  birthday after all.

Dean walks ahead of her while pulling her to the bathroom, Lizzy taking the second to enjoy the view he gives her. Sleep mussed hair. Lines across his back from the sheets. Just boxer briefs. What a fucking ass on him. Delicious.

Lizzy steps into the small room and Dean lets go of her hand. He stands by the shower curtain and turns around, looking at her with a smile.

"Last chance," he says to her. "You sure you're in?"

Right. Slave day. Sighing with her sudden nervousness and a reluctant want for the usual Sunday with football, beer, and familiarity, she brushes it off and sucks it up. He deserves and needs this chance just as much as she does. They're quite the broken pair of people but at least their working to make their lives better together.

"I'm in," she promises.

"Ok," Dean grins like a child, so happy she won't back out. "Turn on the shower."

Lizzy does as she's asked, stepping forward to reach into the curtain and turn the knob.

"Good," Dean says to her once steam starts to fill the cold room. "Take my clothes off."

"With pleasure," Lizzy slickly answers as she reaches to him, her hands dancing along his hips and taking a selfish moment to herself before pushing his only item of clothing to the floor.

Stepping out, Dean pulls her into him by the back of her neck. He pulls her face close until his lips are a breath away from her own, until Lizzy is leaning into him expectantly. "Get naked and join me," he whispers. Without kissing her, he lets her go and steps into the shower.

Lizzy realizes already how he's going to play this day. As she pulls off her tank and panties she can't help but smile to herself. As anxious as she is, she's pretty damn excited too. She eagerly jumps into the shower to join the man she's crazy about.

While standing with his back under the shower's spray Dean lets a little sound of approval escape when he feels her hands on his torso followed quickly by the press of her body against his. Wiping the water from his eyes, he sees her in front of him just as she presses up on her toes to kiss him. He presses his palm to her mouth and covers over it, stopping her. Her eyes stare wide at him with surprise.

"Never said you could kiss me," Dean informs her of her mistake and she's taken by surprise. He's taking this very seriously.

"Sorry," she dejectedly says once his hand is taken away. She lowers back down to her flat feet.

"You need to have permission," he explains. "Understand?"

Speechless, Lizzy nods slowly. Shit. She's in deep already.

"Good girl," Dean praises her as he picks up her blue bath pouf and places it in her hand. "Wash me."

"Seriously?" Lizzy defiantly asks, shocked by his behavior already when the day hasn't even really begun.

Her answer comes quickly in the form of a heavy hand landing hard on her left ass cheek. She yelps with the fully unexpected sting, the water sharpening the sensation.

"You don't question me today," Dean slowly and sternly tells her as he stares hard into her eyes while squeezing her backside. "And you don't speak unless I let you."

Speechless again. Whoa. This is what she signed up for and now she isn't sure at all if she should have. He's completely intimidating her for the first time in their lives together.

"That is what you get when you don't follow the rules, a stinging ass cheek," Dean adds in. "Tell me you understand."

With a pause to recover from the utter astonishment of it all, Lizzy answers. "I understand."

"I understand,  _sir_ ," he corrects her.

She grits her teeth so hard they grind. This is a fucking blow to her ego like no other. Sir? She has to call Dean sir today? Is he fucking kidding with this shit?

"I understand… sir," Lizzy forces out with complete hatred. She loves him, she reminds herself. She loves him. She'd do anything for him. She loves him….

“Then what are you waiting for?” Dean asks her as he nudges her hand holding the pouf.  Biting the inside of her cheek, Lizzy lathers up the sponge and gets to work.  She starts at the top, running the soapy pouf over his neck and shoulders and makes her way.  Arms, stomach, hips, legs, she avoids the one place she knows he’d want attention the most.  Call it her little revenge for making her call him sir.

“Clever,” Dean quips down to her as she kneels to finish his legs, recognizing her purposeful oversight.

“Thank you…” Lizzy cocks an eyebrow up to him.  “Sir.”

“You’re welcome,” he answers while turning around for her to do his backside.  He’s hip to her game.  She purposely didn’t touch him as her own little revenge.  She’s going to try this shit all day and he knows it.  As Lizzy makes her way up the back of his body he makes a mental note to watch out for her little tricks and make sure she pays for them.  He knows she’ll try to hang on to any scrap of control she can find out of necessity and habit, and it might take all day to do it, but he’s going to make her break.  He’s going to get her to surrender one way or another.  Challenge accepted.

Her hands traveling up his back, Dean reaches behind himself.  He takes the pouf from her and drops it in the tub.  Grabbing both her hands, he pulls them around to his front.  He can feel her body pressed against his as he wraps both of her hands firmly around his hard and ready manhood.  He turns his head and directs over his shoulder, “Jerk me off.”

The simplicity and insistence of the request jostles her a bit, but she listens to his order almost immediately.  Sliding her soapy hands along his length up and down, he moans almost instantly.  She knows he woke up hard, as usual, and by now he’s got to be dying to get off.

Dean drops his head back, enjoying her slick hands working him over.  She listened to what he told her to do.  She didn’t question him.  It makes her efforts feel that much better.

His exposed neck beckons to her when she sees it and, even though he didn’t ask for it, she presses up on her toes to suck lightly on the sensitive skin.  His elevated sounds of bliss confirms that she made the right decision.  If it’s in his best interest today, do it.  Lesson learned.

“Uh, fuck,” Dean mutters under his breath just loud enough for her to hear.  She smiles with self-satisfaction as her tongue runs just under his ear.  “Work my cock.”

She feels faint.  Dean was a talker, sure, but the demand in his voice, the words he chooses to use… it’s different today And holy shit is it sexy. 

Swiftly turning around to face her, Dean once more grasps her wrists and curls her fingers right back around himself.  “Keep going.”

Pupils dilated with how absolutely turned on she is by the display, she sets to work with both hands again, not missing a beat while staring up at him in a trance. 

Her wrists twisting while her hands slide over him, Dean sighs loudly.  When he looks at her eyes he’s more than happy to see the awe in them as she stares right back into him.  He watches her mouth open to say something but she stops herself.  She knows she can’t speak without permission.  Holy shit, she’s seriously listening.  She’s really trying. 

“Talk,” Dean pants out, his fingers pushing her damp hair away from her face.  He wants a clear view of her and he wants to hear the dirty things he knows she’s dying to say to him.

Lizzy shares a genuine smile of appreciation and takes the opportunity.  All the nasty thoughts wanting to come out with the sight before her can actually be said.

“Fuck, you’re turning me on,” she blurts out like she’s been trying too hard to hold the statement back for too long.  The sight of him losing it so hard at just her touch… unreal.  “I love your dick.  I love it, so big in my hands.  So fucking hard for me.”

“Oh shit,” Dean closes his eyes, concentrating on her voice and her efforts with his hands holding the sides of her head.

“I wanna do everything for you,” Lizzy continues, watching his wrinkled and pleasure-filled expression.  “I wanna do everything _to_ you.  I wanna make you completely happy, completely satisfied.  I want you to use me today, use me right up.”

“Fuck yeah,” he huffs out, getting closer by the second with her words.

“I want to be your little slut,” she admits to him, hands working faster as she reads his reactions.  “Do whatever you want with me.  Make me fuck you, make me suck your dick, fuck me raw… I want it all…”  She pauses and leans forward, going in for the kill.  “Please, sir.”

At that Dean hits his limit.  He clamps a hand over her mouth to quiet her and he lets go, setting out a string of curses as he does.  Jesus.  She called him sir.  She did it willingly.  It was the hottest thing she’s ever done.  This day is already amazing.

“Oh…oh my God,” he quietly mutters as he comes back down.  Opening his eyes to look at her he sees the intense desire seated deep in her eyes.  He knows that look.  He’s seen it before and soon after he saw it she fucked him crazy.  Stay strong, Dean.  You’re in control.

He lifts his hand off of her mouth and reveals the smile on her lips.

“Clean up,” Dean tells her, pointing to the mess he just left on her stomach.  He then removes her hands from him.  “And shave up nice for me.  Do your hair and makeup, then go to the bedroom and get dressed.  I’ll see you in the living room when you’re done.”  He kisses her cheek once, then her lips sweetly, before praising in her ear, “So good, my little slut.”

And then he was gone.  Lizzy was left standing in the shower all alone, the only evidence that the intense moment actually existed running down her bare skin.  She doesn’t move as her mind reels.  He just used the shit out of her.  He got what he wanted, she listened like a good slave, and she got nothing to show for it but unanswered need.  She’s turned on as all hell and he left her high and dry.

“Oh,” Dean says just before popping his head back into the shower curtain.  He looks to her with a smile.  “No touching yourself in here.  I know you want to, but… don’t.  Not allowed.”  He winks and disappears.

Frustrated.  It’s the one word spinning in her head when she hears the door open and close.  She’s alone, horny as fuck, and can’t do a damn thing about it.  Ok, this was a mistake….

* * *

Looking at herself in the mirror, she's satisfied with what she sees. She just hopes Dean is too. Assuming that this whole day is a one-time thing she goes all out despite her anger with how he left her in the shower. She dried her dark black hair (she decided to change it up a few days ago, no more red) and straightened it until perfectly smooth, making sure her bangs have a solid sweep across her face and slightly cover over her right eye. She knows he loves that on her.

She also went a bit overboard with the makeup. She's watched enough porn to know that today was not the day for the natural look. The heavy black eyeliner that turns up into a cat eye in the corners paired with red, smartly chosen smudge-proof lip stain feels porn star worthy appropriate when she checks her reflection. She looked hot if she did say so herself.

Clean, smooth skin  _everywhere_ , painted face, salon hair, and she's ready to go. Lizzy takes a nervous deep breath as she leaves the bathroom in a towel. Walking down the hall she thinks about what she should wear today. What do sex slaves wear, anyways? Huh, maybe she should have gone shopping…

She gets her answer when she turns the corner into the bedroom and her eyes fall onto the bed.

"Whoa," Lizzy couldn't help escape when she sees the made bedding and her clothes for the day laid out on it for her like a child. However, kids don't wear this kind of thing. They wear comfy, cute clothes. This… well, this looks down right fierce.

Dean, sitting on the couch and watching Sunday morning pregame shows, smirks to himself when he hears her muttered surprise from the other room. The second he got out of the shower he was off. He put what she was supposed to wear out for her and then came into the living room. He took the rest of his new items and set them up on the coffee table. It's an intimidating display, he knows it, but he'll help her through. It'll be a shock at first but only at first.

He waits patiently as she gets dressed. The idea of Lizzy in there, putting on what he's picked out for her today… how is he going to make it through to tonight? He's turned on by the thought of it already.

After sitting with absolute restraint for what felt like far too long, Dean can hear heels clicking on the hardwood flooring of the hallway. Looking anxiously to the doorway, he watches Lizzy walk into the room with a slightly nervous, even shy, expression.

"Holy shit," he breaths out as he watches her stop and stand there, waiting for him. She may be a hot chick in every sense of the label but generally Lizzy didn't dress like one looking for attention. She was usually subdued or even tomboy-ish at times. This was the absolute opposite of her norm.

The tight, cropped leather halter top molded to her form perfectly with the deep neckline showing off her cleavage, something she, in Dean's opinion, didn't do often enough. The shiny thigh-high boots are like a second skin on her. They stop above her knee and lace all the way up the front. It must have taken her forever to get them on. The stiletto heel and platform on them give her an extra six inches of height.

"Turn," Dean tells her lowly, his eyes soaking her in. "Slowly."

Already feeling a little self-conscious wearing such revealing clothing in the morning on a Sunday, she does as he asks while a rose color sweeps across her face.

The involuntary groan that makes its way out of Dean's throat when he sees the tight leather hot shorts from the back, her ass cheeks peeking out the bottom, is almost inaudible but Lizzy picks up on it and bites her lip with the sound. Ok, she knew she looked good but apparently she's killing it for him right now.

By the time she makes it full circle and she's facing Dean again, his eyes are on hers, not her body anymore.

"You look fucking amazing," Dean tells her, honesty in his voice. And she really did. Everything about her; the clothes, the hair, the makeup, the shoes… fuck.

Lizzy smiles timidly and looks away from him, biting her lip again with the compliment. Her eyes return to him as he stands up from the couch and steps in front of her. The awe written in his expression is enough to make her weak in the knees.

"I hope you believe me," he tells her, thinking she doesn't realize how damn good she looks. Lizzy nods her head, saying she does. "Good."

Dean brings his hands to her face, cupping her jaw, and kisses her. It's deep, hard, and urgent. She responds immediately, her lips and tongue seeking his. She's been waiting to be able to do that nearly all morning and instinctually her hands reach to him, landing on his hips.

Taking her hands gently in his, Dean removed them from himself. Against her lips he explains. "No touching unless I say you can."

Sighing with the denial, she listens, her arms hanging down by her sides as he kisses her once more.

"Fuck," Dean lets out as he backs away, looking her over once more. "I have a few more things."

Lizzy watches him reach to the coffee table, the surface of which she now realizes is cluttered with items. Her heart jumps with the sight. He's taking this way more seriously than she ever thought he was going to. Shit, she thinks. Uncomfortable. Scary. So nervous.

When Dean straightens back up and turns to look at her again he immediately sees the panic written in her face while staring at his arsenal.

"Relax," he says to her, his hand resting on her cheek as he smiles warmly to her. "I followed the boundaries we set, ok? It might look like a lot, but it isn't."

Lizzy nods and he watches her swallow hard. Well now he's starting to feel bad.

"You didn't expect all this, did you?" Dean has to ask her, getting a fast and hasty shake of the head in confirmation. "You trust me?"

Her expression softens. "Of course… sir."

Dean has to smile at that. "Then calm down. It's not so bad. I'm gonna take care of you."

A hand running down her arm, Dean closes his fingers around her wrist. Bringing it up to him he begins to wrap a black cuff around it. Buckling it in place, he looks back to her. "Not too tight?"

"No sir," Lizzy answers immediately, relaxing a bit as he lets go of her now cuffed wrist to do the same to the other. The black, rubber strap has a belted closure, a heavy metal o-shaped ring on it, and is lined in soft, comfortable fabric. He's looking out for her wellbeing, only putting on something that won't hurt her, and she takes much comfort in that.

Once both wrists are cuffed he reaches for another item from the table, this time a belt. One end in each hand, Dean brings the loop over her head and down until it's hip level. He buckles it for her in front, it resting comfortably just at the top of her shorts. It also has metal rings much like the ones on her cuffs every so many inches along the length of it.

"Feel ok?"

"Yes sir."

"Damn does that sound good coming from you," Dean compliments her use of his name for the day and kisses her on the cheek sweetly, reinforcing his rewards-for-good-behavior policy. Lizzy smiles with making him so happy. His plan is working already. "I have one more thing but I'm pretty sure you're not gonna like it."

Her smile fades instantly. What is it? Why won't she like it?

Picking up this one more item, Dean gets it over with and holds it out for her to see.

Anger. That's the one emotion she can manage to get out when she sees it. Who the fuck does he think he is? Really? This is too damn much. Her ego and strong persona can't handle this.

"I know you're mad," Dean points out, well aware of her hatred for what he's about to make her deal with. "But you're the one who said you were all mine before, right?"

Lizzy glares at him in return without answering.

"I'm gonna ask again and I think you should answer. You've said before that you were mine, right?"

"Yes sir," Lizzy grits through clenched teeth.

"So this just proves it right?" Dean lightly says as he brings the collar around her neck. "Right?" he asks again while looking at her as his hands buckle the leather item in the back.

"Yes sir," she answers, her voice still thick with hatred. She can feel the circle metal tag on the collar hanging down on the hollow of her neck. She got the chance to read it before he put it on her.

_Property of Dean Winchester_

If her mother ever knew about this she'd kill her own daughter. The reason why Lizzy's such a strong female is because it was a learned personality trait from Cathy. Her mother was an amazing, tough as nails woman and therefore so is Lizzy. She's always been her own woman, one that no one could fuck with or hold down. She'd give anything to punch a wall, or maybe Dean's face, once the collar is on her for good.

"You're fine," Dean assures as Lizzy looks at the floor instead of at him. He lifts her chin to look at him and, very begrudgingly, she does. "I know how tough this is for you, ok? I get it. But you already know you're mine. The collar is just proof."

She stares right back at him, hands balled in tight, aching fists at her sides, and her fire doesn't die down one bit.

"Who owns you?" Dean pushes her. He knows he has to get her to break down and accept her position for the day. This was a big thing he and Krista had spoken about. He knew Lizzy would be difficult and Krista reminded him he'd have to stand his ground, something very difficult to do when the person you're trying to break down is someone you love very much.

Peering with wide eyes filled with anger, Lizzy doesn't answer.

Turning her to face away from him quickly by her shoulders, Dean spanks her hard on the ass for the second time that day for her disobedience.

Jaw dropped with his behavior, Lizzy is unsure what to think. Not given the time for her to register her full shock, he hooks an arm around her waist and pulls her into him. He uses his free hand to pull her cheek, making her face turn to look at him. He holds her there strongly.

"I asked you a question and you're gonna answer." He looks at her hard in the eye while using his most intimidating tone, one she normally only hears when hunting. "Who owns you?"

"You do."

"Who am I?"

Swallowing hard, hoping some of her pride goes down with it, she answers. "Dean Winchester."

"So who owns you?" he asks again sternly.

"Dean Winchester owns me."

"Again."

"Dean Winchester owns me."

"Good job," Dean says, his voice suddenly returning to its usually comforting and kind tone that he has with her. He turns her back around to smile at her, quickly running his fingers over the shiny metal tag gleaming against her soft skin. "I want you to go make breakfast."

Wait, this slave thing meant she had to do everything today?  _Everything?_ She thought this was all about sex.

"Whoa, hold on…" Lizzy starts with her hands raised with their palms to him as she's grown uncomfortable.

"Excuse me?" Dean asks, eyebrows nearly flying to his hair line with her questioning.

"Goo Goo Dolls, dude," Lizzy says while backing up a step, using her created safe word to get her kind and loving husband back for a second. "Make you food?"

"Yeah," Dean nods with an innocent look.

"I thought this was a sex thing, Dean," Lizzy explains while pointing to the coffee table. "This is  _way_  more than I thought it was going to be."

"I was starting to think that."

"I just… I'm having a pretty hard time with this," Lizzy points to her neck quickly.

Dean steps forward and hugs her in, trying to comfort her as much as he can.

"I need to know why," she says as she returns the embrace, her hands coming around his back as she has to know why he wanted  _all_  of this.

"Because I'm a man, L," Dean says and she has to look up to see if he's being serious or silly. His face says serious. "And you are an abnormally tough woman. And honestly, I'd like my balls back for at least a day."

Lizzy burst out a laugh at what he says. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Dean answers. "It sounded lame to me too. But it's true."

"Ok," Lizzy nods, backing away from him and breathing in deeply once. "Ok. I'm ok. I just, I'm having a hard time letting go and being…"

"The needy one for once?" Dean challenges with a shit eating grin.

"Ah, yeah," Lizzy loudly answers. "And shit, a fucking collar?"

"You look hot in it," Dean admits. "You look insanely hot in all of it."

"You ask me to bark and I'll kill you!" she points at him with seriously warning.

"I won't," Dean surrenders with a wide smile. "I swear."

Lizzy nods and the two have a moment of shared silence as she accepts the life she'll live today.

"I'm serious," Dean has to add on with his intense attraction to her right now. "You look so fucking crazy good in all this."

"Yeah, thanks," Lizzy brushes off but blushes with the ultimate compliment. "Honestly, I feel a little ridiculous."

"Please don't," he says quickly. "Holy shit, L. You look… fucking hell."

Blushing again, Lizzy puts her hands on her hips almost uncomfortably with the honest and searing way he stares at her.

"I already told you I wasn't gonna break our set boundaries, ok," Dean starts to explain. "You know I would never do that. Look." He points to the table. "No ropes, no paddles or anything painful, just like you asked."

Lizzy blows out a breath when she recognizes that he's right.

"I promise that you're not gonna hate today if you just relax and go with it," Dean continues. "You said you wanted to do this, that you wanted to lose all control. I've got this. You give in and you'll be fine. I'll take care of everything."

Finally calming down, Lizzy nods once more. "You know, I kinda feel like a pussy for safe wording it already."

Dean laughs quietly to himself. "Yeah, you didn't last too long did you?"

"Sorry," Lizzy smiles genuinely. "Did I ruin your birthday?"

"You gonna give this another try?"

"Yes."

"Then no way," Dean assures her. "Just start trusting me and get over the whole tough chick shit. That's the point of all this anyways."

"I know it is. I'm just stubborn."

"No!" Dean sarcastically says and Lizzy pushes him playfully.

"Shut up," she smiles.

"You ready?" he questions her, looking to return to what they had been building on.

"I think so. I think the initial shock and horror is over." She's being truthful. The surprise of everything threw her at first. "Wasn't ready for everything. I mean shit, I'm wearing cuffs and a God damned collar." She holds up her wrists.

"And believe me when I say this day will test my own self-control." He's said it a lot already, but he just can't seem to get over it. She is mind-blowing right now.

"It better!" she laughs.

Dean pulls her into a more innocent kiss, his arms circling her shoulders. "I love you."

"I love you too," Lizzy responds.

"Now, go make your owner some breakfast," Dean directs to her as he backs off and returns to their game. "Eggs, bacon, toast… you know what I like."

"Right away sir," Lizzy smiles, a little bite in her tone. Dean lets it go this one time and relaxes back onto the couch as Lizzy leaves him.

* * *

After taking some time to herself while putting together breakfast, Lizzy took it down a notch. The disgusted reaction she'd had before is starting to melt into something respectful. Clearly Dean did a lot of work, a lot of preparation for this to happen. He also very obviously considered her and her personality and comfort level perfectly to ensure that, even though this is technically for him, she gets something out of this experience too. How can she get mad at that?

The food almost cooked, Lizzy makes her way down the hallway and into the living room. Their kitchen isn't big enough for a dinner table so they set one up off to the side in the living room. Normally they don't use it. They eat mostly at the coffee table. However, the coffee table looks fairly busy at the moment with all the equipment Dean bought (that must have been a pretty bill, she thinks to herself) so he sets up the rarely used kitchen table. She places knives, forks, and napkins on it, setting two places.

"How nice," Dean smiles to her, Lizzy smiling back before disappearing again. She goes to prepare his plate. Remembering back when she and Lou first met the Winchesters, Lou made breakfast for the group at Bobby's one morning. She cooked the scrambled eggs she made in bacon grease and Dean nearly flipped. Lizzy took it upon herself to do just that this morning knowing how he'd love it.

Once the bacon, eggs, and buttered toast are arranged on the plate she fills his favorite mug with coffee and a little Irish whiskey. Normally she wouldn't encourage him drinking any more than he currently does, but today was different. It's his birthday and she needs brownie points for her mistake this morning.

She places the food and drink on the table and shares a quick grin before going to the kitchen to grab her own plate. Placing it in the empty space at the table across from where Dean is sitting already, she takes a seat and picks up a fork. She's starving. Slavery is making her hungry.

"What are you doing?" Dean asks her from his chair at the table, face a little angry.

"Eating breakfast, sir?" the answer comes out as a question with her confusion.

"Not at my table you're not," Dean tells her. "You didn't earn that." He points to a pillow sitting on the floor by the foot of the couch.

Inhaling deeply through her nose, Lizzy tries to calm that lovely anger problem rearing its head once more. She has to eat on the floor?

Very slowly , she stands up with her plate. Staring daggers at him, Lizzy takes a few steps and lowers to the hardwood, sitting on the pillow he left for her. She awkwardly stretches out her legs in front of her, along with the massive heels on them, and drops her plate onto her lap.

"Good girl," Dean smiles, getting probably too much amusement out of her anger. He takes a sip of coffee and pulls away from the mug with a surprised face. "You Irish this up?"

"Thought you'd want that, sir," Lizzy says without looking at him, trying her best to leave behind the attitude.

"I do. Thanks," Dean genuinely says. He then takes up his fork and digs in, taking a bite of his eggs first. "Holy shit." His voice is muffled by the food in it. "This is freakin' awesome."

Lizzy doesn't look over, just cocks an eyebrow and takes a bite of her food.

"Did you cook this like Lou?"

"Yes sir. Just wanted to make you happy." Lizzy nonchalantly pops a strip of bacon into her mouth with a satisfied smile.

"Get up here," he commands of her and Lizzy stands back up, plate in hand. She walks over to stand in front of him. Dean takes the plate and puts it back into the open place at the table. "I think you've officially earned it."

"Thank you, sir," Lizzy answers.

"Sit," he tells her, patting his thighs. Lizzy grins with happiness and drops sideways into his lap while keeping her hands to herself. They rest in her own lap but itch with need to be used.

Dean kisses her in thanks, showing her how well she did. She hums against his mouth when he runs his tongue along hers.

"You're learning," he says to her when he pulls away. "That's very good. Now go eat before your food gets cold."

She sadly gets off his lap and moves to her own chair. As she begins to eat she has to wonder where the sex of this whole thing is. She's horny now after that kiss and he's just not letting her get what she needs. She's starting to understand the game a little more, piece by piece, but she's wondering if some of the rules are still not told to her yet.

* * *

 

 


	37. January 24th (Part 3)

* * *

Some things don't change, no matter what day it is. Football Sunday is one of them.

They will always watch the games of the day. The one o'clock game is on and it's not too far into the first quarter when Dean finishes beer number one.

"I need a new beer," he absently calls out to Lizzy while stretched across the length of the couch as she sits on the floor. He told her she wasn't to be on the furniture unless he decided to let her. She sits on one of the large couch pillows Indian style with her back to the foot of the couch and turns to look at him behind her when he speaks.

"Crawl and get me a new beer," Dean tells her, handing her the empty bottle.

"Crawl, sir?" Lizzy has to ask, thinking she misheard him.

"Yes, crawl," Dean confirms. "I want to watch that ass as you crawl on your hands and knees away from me." His eyebrows lift once in excitement.

Biting her cheek, Lizzy tosses away a little more of her own self pride and takes his empty from him before getting on all fours. Beer in one hand, it clinks against the wooden floor as she moves. She makes sure her ass is aimed right at him, hoping this will finally put him over the edge so that he'll fuck her already. Time's a wasting and he's ready.

Once she's rounded the corner, Dean rubs himself quickly through his jeans. This is insane. He's depriving his own self now. This is ridiculous. He needs to do something about this soon.

Now in the kitchen, Lizzy stands up and walks to the refrigerator. Crawl? Fuck that. She rolls her eyes as she puts the empty on the counter and opens the fridge, grabbing a new beer for him. She straightens up and turns to leave but jumps with surprise when she looks to the doorway.

"Thought I told you to crawl?" Dean challenges, leaning on the frame with arms crosses. He had a sneaking suspicion that if he followed her he'd discover she hadn't been following his orders exactly. Lucky for him he was right.

"You did, sir," Lizzy answer, her brain grasping for excuses. "I couldn't reach the beer from the floor though."

"I think you're lying." Dean steps towards her slowly, narrowed eyes questioning her. "Are you lying?"

She's caught. Fuck. "Yes, sir."

"Why didn't you listen?" He steps forward some more.

"Because I didn't want to crawl, sir. Felt a little silly," Lizzy tries for pure honesty. Really it's all she's got.

Dean stands in front of her, arms still crossed angrily and looks at her closer. "That's not why."

Lizzy looks with confusion at him. She told the truth. What did he want?

"You did it because you're a very bad girl."

A visible shiver travels down her spine at him words. Why did she just find that so fucking hot?

"Say that you're a bad girl."

"I'm a bad girl," Lizzy echoes right back, her grip on the bottle of beer in her hand tightening.

"Yes you are," Dean repeats while looping his index finger into her collar. "I think you need to learn from your mistakes."

As Dean leads her back into the living room by the neck, Lizzy crosses her fingers. She got so turned on back there, him making her call herself a bad girl. It sounded so goofy and cliché at first, but the look in his eyes made up for that. Damn it, she's starting to see that this could be very fun after all. Now she wants sex. No, she  _needs_  sex. Please, oh please, let her punishment be sex.

Dean lets go of her collar and drops onto the couch, sitting with his feet on the floor and leaning against the back.

“Get me two of those hooks,” Dean points to the pile of carabiner fasteners on the coffee table.  She obliges him, handing him two after placing his beer on the table.  “And I want you bottomless.”

Oh thank God, Lizzy cheers silently to herself.  Sex.  She lowers her tight leather shorts to the floor and steps out of them, giving him his first view of her freshly shaven self, just like he asked for.

“Straddle me facing away.”

Happily she turns around and sits on his lap, her back to him and her legs tucked under her on either side of his thighs.  He takes her hair in his hand and pulls down sharply until her back is so arched she’s looking at him upside down.

“You see these?” Dean holds up the hooks with his free hand.

“Yes sir,” she struggles out with her stretched throat.

“I will bind your hands in place if you don’t listen to me, understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good,” Dean says and lets her hair go, Lizzy sitting up straight once more.  “Put your hands on the floor.”

Leaning forward until her back is parallel to the ground, Lizzy presses her hands to the floor below her.  Her bare ass is on full display for him now.

“You keep breaking the rules,” Dean points out to her as he hungrily eyes her backside.  “And you need to learn that you have to listen to everything I say today.  So this is for your own good.”

Dean slaps a forceful hand down on her right cheek, eliciting a small cry from her in return.  She may have said no pain, but a little ass smacking was always ok with her.  In fact, she enjoyed it more than most probably do.  He knew this was ok with her and decided to make good use of it today.

“Why are you being punished?” Dean asks her with a slap to her left cheek. 

“Because I’m a bad girl, sir.”

“Fuck,” Dean says, his body responding instantly to the situation, his pants growing a little too tight for comfort.  He smacks her right side again and revels in how quickly her skin begins turning red.  “Say it again.”

“Because I’m, ah!” Lizzy quietly yips when he open hands her left side again.  “I’m a bad girl, sir.”

“Yes you are,” Dean concurs, grabbing onto her reddened flesh with both hands and squeezing hard.  Her ass is perfect and when it’s right in his face like this it’s like his kryptonite.  He picks up and drops his hands on both cheeks at the same time before smoothing over the handprints he’s left behind.  “So fucking perfect.”

The feel of his forgiving, soothing hands on her burning skin does lessen some of the sting, yet at the same time it turns her on more.  She begins gyrating her hips in the hope that she can push him further and make him fuck her.

“Yeah.  Move your ass just like that,” Dean mutters mostly to himself as her round curves slide under her palms.

When Lizzy hears him open the zipper of his jeans she sighs with happiness.  Finally, fun!

Dean licks his fingers wet before reaching down to touch her, making sure she was ready for him.  The second he touches her she jumps with the change before moaning.

“Get up,” Dean says as he pulls her up by the elbows until she’s kneeling in his lap again.  The top of his pants are wide open, her favorite part of him out and ready.  He holds himself straight up for her.  “Sit on my cock.”

Lowering herself down onto him immediately, Lizzy groans from deep within over how damn good it feels to get what she’s been after.

“I want you to fuck me,” Dean leans forward and instructs into her ear.  “You’re going to ride me until I come.”

“Yes. sir,” Lizzy happily agrees.

“But this is a punishment,” Dean reminds her.  “You aren’t allowed to get anything out of this.”

Lizzy turns to look at him.  “Sir?” she questions with pleading eyes, desperate for release.

“No orgasm for you,” he further explains.  “Tell me you understand.”

This fucking blows!  “I understand,” she says in a _very_ sad voice.

“I understand….?”

“Sir.”

“Now,” Dean leans back again and relaxes into the couch, his arms out to the sides casually.  “Fuck me until I fill that beautiful pussy right up.”

And that just made everything way harder to deal with.  She’s so turned on, he starts talking like that, and she has to fuck him and _not_ have an orgasm?  She worries that it’s an impossible task for her to do, that he’s setting her up for instant failure.

Grabbing Dean’s knees in front of her, Lizzy starts moving.  She raises and lowers herself onto him over and over again, all the while willing herself to not fall into a place of sheer pleasure.

“Oh yeah,” Dean says quietly as his breathing picks up and he gets one of his favorite views of her.  Her ass bouncing perkily on top of him… nothing quite like it. 

A moan escapes Lizzy’s lips and she starts to lose the battle within her.  She sits up tall, letting go of his knees and letting her legs do all the work.  She keeps moving on top of him, feeling better and better as she does.

“So fucking good,” Dean says to her, his hands grasping hard to her ass again, and Lizzy gives in.  She has no will power right now with how badly she needs to let go.

Thinking she’s being sneaky, Lizzy brings a hand between her legs to help her own self along.  Maybe if she stays quiet when she comes he won’t notice, she tries to convince herself.  But before she can get very far she gets caught.

“No,” Dean lets out as he grabs both her wrists and pulls her hands to her sides.  “No touching yourself.”

“Sorry sir,” Lizzy apologizes in pants, immediately feeling more regret and remorse for disobeying him than she feels disappointment for the loss of her own pleasure.

“Keep fucking me.”

As Lizzy’s heart drops at being caught, Dean takes up the hooks Lizzy handed him before from the couch cushion where he left them.  As she bounces in his lap, he takes one wrist at a time and secures a carabiner onto the metal rings on each cuff before hooking them onto her belt.  With her arms linked in place to her sides by her hips, Lizzy is now officially unable to touch herself even if she wanted to.

“Better,” Dean says to himself when he watches her, arms locked and helpless.  “Now make me come, baby.”

“Yes, sir,” Lizzy answers, riding him harder than before.  She wants to get him off as soon as possible before her body betrays her.  She can’t handle this much longer, it’s like torture.

“Fuck.  Oh, fuck,” Dean breathes out.  Lizzy smiles to herself.  When Dean starts in with the string of curse words that don’t form statements she knows he’s getting close.  Thank God.  “Shit.  Oh yeah.”

Watching her move, arms bound, her sexy ass moving over him, he can’t take it anymore.  He grabs her hips and forcefully presses her down onto him, burying himself deep within her and coming hard. 

Lizzy sits still on top of him, breathing labored with her physical exertion.  As he finds his release Lizzy surprisingly finds herself so happy that she could do what he asked, moment of weakness aside.  She did it.  She made him feel so damn good in the most selfless way possible that she has a new sense of pride in herself.

“So good,” Dean tells her, turning her head to the side to kiss her.  He rewards her job well done.  “And you never came.  You must be dying.”

“I am, sir,” Lizzy assures.  She’s way too worked up to handle herself right now.  She’d give anything for release and she’s forcing herself not to grind down onto him out of sheer sexual frustration.

“I bet you’ll never disobey me again then,” Dean grins wickedly.  “Get up.”

Lizzy stands off of him and turns around, arms still bound and waits for instructions.  Dean unhooks her wrists.

“Clean me up then clean yourself.  Then put your shorts back on.” 

Lizzy does as he asks, grabbing tissues from an end table at the side of the couch.  Once done she steps back into her shorts and pulls them up in place.  Redressed, she stands before him and Dean hooks her wrists right back in place. 

“Relax and take a seat,” he points to the floor.  “I’ll free your arms once I’m sure you learned your lesson.”

“But I did learn my lesson, sir,” Lizzy assures him.

“Really?” he asks, getting an eager nod in returns.  “Ok then, what did you learn?”

“I learned that I need to listen to you or I get left sad and dissatisfied,” Lizzy starts.  “I learned that your pleasure comes first.  I learned that the reward of doing what you ask of me is your happiness, not my own… even though your happiness just makes me happy by default.  Sir.”

Surprised by her explanation, Dean grins wide with her answer.

“Guess you did,” he says to her as he reaches out and unlocks her wrists.  She grins with yet more pride when he extends the gesture.

“Thank you for your kindness, sir,” Lizzy tells him and picks up the beer she went to get him.  She grabs his left hand and with her own hand she guides his to pop the top of the bottle with his ‘wedding’ ring before handing it over with a bright smile.

Taken aback with the sudden change in her personality, Dean nods and takes the beer.

Lizzy sits down in her place on the floor, smiling to herself when she finally understands this game for what it is.  Her job is to make him happy today and to listen to everything he wants.  Normally, even if he’s been difficult ever since Sam gave his life for the cause and he should be difficult after that, Dean always looked out for her.  Even while fighting his way through depression he’s been constantly loving towards her with only a few slip ups and an overly difficult first couple of months.  Through it all she sometimes feels she doesn’t deserve him and now he’s given her a chance to prove how important he is to her, how much she worships him already.  And damn it, with everything he’s been through he deserves one day in which he’s the king, he’s the decision maker, he’s in charge.

And fuck, he’s insanely hot right now.  That domineering side of him is intense and manly, and so fucking badass it makes her crazy.  As Lizzy fans her overheating self, she’s starting to think he’s never turned her on more.

Dean watches her try to cool off, knowing how badly she needs to get off, and smirks.  Job well done, he thinks to himself.  With Lizzy pain isn’t really much of a punishment.  Neither are words or most actions.  Say anything to her, do anything to her and she’s like Teflon; it all just slides right off her back.  Withholding sex or pleasure from her, however, that’s how you truly get to Lizzy Winchester. 

He’s so glad he knows this.

* * *

 


	38. January 24th (Part 4)

* * *

The midday games have started and Lizzy finds herself quite content. She may be wearing a very tiny outfit of non-breathing leather and bondage gear while sitting on the floor as Dean told her she has to earn the privilege of sitting on furniture, but she's found a way to be happy. The football game is on. And she's still allowed to drink.

Dean gave in to her watching the Pats game. Hell, football Sunday has become their personal form of religion so not letting her watch her team would feel sacrilegious. He takes a second to observe her watching with such intensity that it makes him smile. When Lizzy loved something, she truly loved it. Obsessively. Football was one of those things that she loved with ferocity, just like she loved good rock music, her dwindling family, a solid television show, and anything relating to sex. The only thing she loved more than any of those things is Dean and he feels honored to have that position in life. Really, he felt like the luckiest bastard on Earth.

"Fuck!" Lizzy shouts out suddenly as she scrambles to her feet in disgust. "Interference!? That's fucking bullshit! Did you see that!?" Turning to Dean for his opinion on the play, she doesn't wait for it and complains on. "That was so not interference! Belichick better fucking challenge that crap because that is some serious bull…." she freezes when she really looks at him. His face is serious, almost upset. Her heart drops instantly. "Oh no."

"Oh yes," Dean says with a disappointed face. She broke almost every one of his rules in a matter of mere seconds with her fit of bad-call rage. And to think that she'd been doing so damn well since she fucked him on the couch, too.

"Sir, I am so sorry," she apologizes instantly, dropping to her knees in front of him with regret. She goes to place her hands on his knees but stops herself just in time. She didn't have permission to touch him.

"I know you are," Dean answers calmly, sipping his beer.

"I got carried away and forgot."

"I know you did. But you can't forget," Dean scolds evenly while standing up. "Not today. You know the rules."

"Shit. Please, I'm sorry sir," Lizzy tries with all her might. She had been hoping with everything in her that she would be able to have some serious fun the next time they got going but she's beginning to see that it isn't in the cards for her at the moment, maybe not for the day at the rate she's going. "Please… I can't take another go. I'm so horny, sir. I'm dying. I can't."

"Wow… I  _love_  hearing you say things like that to me," he smiles down to her on the floor at his feet. Fucking amazing.

"No, sir, I mean it. I won't be able to stop myself. I  _will_  come." The look in her eyes alone confirms how serious she is.

"Stand up," Dean directs and with a small sigh of utter defeat Lizzy does, her sadness obvious in her body language. "Turn around, hands behind your back."

Lizzy does as he asks, facing away from him and holding her arms behind her as if she's about to be arrested. Wouldn't be the first time… right?

Even as Dean's hooking her wrists behind her to the belt she's wearing, he does feel a pang of remorse and sympathy. She didn't mean to break the rules; she's just a really passionate fan. But, she needed to learn that even with a really terrible call (which Dean would happily admit it was) she should have listened to him and his rules. That's what this whole experiment is about.

"Face me," Dean directs once her hands are secured behind her back and immobile. Very quickly he decides what he wants to do this time around for her punishment. If she doesn't learn from this one she's never going to learn he thinks to himself once his plan of attack is formulated. This is a good one… even if it's a bit cruel.

Dean picks up a small remote control and a little, silver bullet off the coffee table. This was one of the items Krista suggested for him and when she spoke about what power it held, well, Dean had to own it immediately.

"Spanking doesn't work with you," Dean explains, his hand grasping onto her collar and pulling her slowly closer until she's inches away from his face. "Why doesn't it work with you?"

"I like it too much, sir," Lizzy answers truthfully.

"That's what I thought. So now you've forced me to get creative. See this?" he lets go of her collar and holds the bullet out for her to see. She nods. "I think you know what this does, right?"

Lizzy, certainly knowing a vibrator when she sees one, answers immediately. "I do, sir."

"Excellent," Dean says with a smile, pulling her hips in by the belt on her waist. While never letting his eyes leave hers, he trails his other hand down her body, taking his selfish time.  Once he reaches between her legs, Dean pushes the bullet into the small pocket there on the outside of her tight shorts, the pocket Lizzy was confused at seeing when she first put the small item on that morning.  Once in place, right up against her most sensitive spot, he grins a little wider.  “Let’s see if this works.”

Pressing a button on the tiny remote control, Lizzy immediately jumps and lets out a sharp moan of surprise when the vibrator comes to life.  As soon as it starts it’s stopped.

“Oh, I like this thing already,” Dean cheers calmly to himself after watching her reaction to it.  He then pockets the remote for now.  “You know, I figured out what your biggest problem is.”

Lizzy stares up at him, nervous with the amount of control he has over her right now.  He’s going to torture her with this, she can tell.  Dean leans in, grabs her chin hard, and kisses her. 

“Baby, it’s your mouth,” he explains, his tongue running over her lips.  “It gets you in trouble.”

“Then we’re two peas in a fucking pod, sir,” Lizzy remarks with her lips brushing his, knowing what a bad idea it was.  That comment wasn’t a smart one, but it came out before she could stop it.

Dean reaches immediately behind her and strikes her ass hard, her body jolting forward into him with the much harder force than the other slaps.  The sound of enjoyment she makes was unstoppable.

“See,” Dean points out.  “You never know when to quit.  You’re gonna pay for that.”

Moving her backwards by her shoulders, he pushes her down into the large, upholstered chair.  He pulls her hips forward so that she’s sitting on the very edge of the cushion and separates her knees until her legs are wide open.

“I think,” Dean starts, leaning forward and bracing a hand on the arms rests to either side of her.  Once he’s eye level with her, he continues.  “That you need to learn what that mouth is for today.”

Lizzy swallows hard.  Holy shit. 

“It’s not for yelling at the TV, it’s not for speaking your mind, it’s not for telling me what to do… it’s for me.  It’s for whatever I want to use it for.”

He stands back up as Lizzy watches him with very wide eyes.  God damn, sometimes he could so easily break her down with just what he says in his rough, strong voice.  Breathing deep she tries to stow her desperate need to pounce on him.  Self-restraint.  Loss of control.  No more tough ass Lizzy.  She can do this.

Once he picks up the ball gaga from the coffee table he turns to face her again.  “Open your mouth.”

She does, her jaw dropped as Dean places the round, red ball into her mouth before securing the attached belt behind her head.  He then cups her face and tilts it upward to him so he can take a good look.  He’s instantly hard at seeing her with her lips stretched around the sphere, her voice cut off and rendered useless. 

“Uh God,” Dean shakes his head.  “You’re gonna kill me before I can even do anything to you.  You look so fucking hot like this.”

If she could, Lizzy would smile at this remark.  She has to admit that it’s awful nice to know that through this she’s not the only one having to restrain herself. 

“I want you to stay right there, sitting just how I put you with your legs open,” Dean explains, leaning down to lick around her stretched lips just once.  “And remember, no orgasm.  This is your punishment.  Think you can do that?”  The worry in her eyes lets him know how hard a task he asks of her.  “Guess we’ll have to see,” he laughs a little as he walks away from her and drops onto the couch, once more stretching out across it.  He leans his head onto the arm on one end so he can see her.

He takes the remote control out of his pocket and glances over at his wife.  Damn it, today is awesome.  She’s breathing hard while watching him, the anticipation of what he’s going to do getting to her completely.  She can’t speak, she can’t move her arms, she can’t do anything but sit there and take what he has to give her.

“Man, so many settings on this thing,” Dean taunts while looking at the remote.  “We’ll have to try a few and see what works best, huh?”

A little fear in her expression, Lizzy closes her eyes briefly, willing her turned on state to go away or at least lessen a little.  She’ll never get through this the way he wants her to, without finding release, if she doesn’t.  Then her eyes pop wide open the second she feels it.

Dean turns the vibrator on the lowest setting and watches intently.  Lizzy’s posture immediately stiffens and her lids fly up to look at him. 

“This is gonna be awesome,” he says to her with almost childlike wonder.

Closing her eyes again, Lizzy fights through the next, more powerful setting Dean immediately ups it to and starts concentrating on her breathing, making it even and steady and fighting the increasingly amazing feeling between her thighs. 

“Mmm,” Lizzy moans softly through the ball in her mouth, the vibrator buzzing faster again and she drops her chin to bow her head.  Come on, Lizzy thinks to herself.  You’re a tough, strong ass hunter who’s dealt with much harder trials in your life.  You can do this.

Just like before, Dean realizes his fault in all this.  He’s dying now.  He really should have though this through because moments like this, with Lizzy straining against her own pleasure, her legs shaking and face twisted with her internal battle, holding back is damn near impossible.  However, he’d be completely lying if he said he wasn’t having the time of his life doing all these things to her.  The control he has is intoxicating.

Pressing another button, the pulse setting starts and the sound Lizzy makes when she feels it can only be described as unreal.  She’s struggling now to follow his command, struggling like she hadn’t before.  The vibrator against her is driving her insane, the pattern it creates making for a whole new sensation.  She’s worried now, and she looks briefly to Dean, pleading with her eyes for him to help her out.  Getting a crude smile in return she knows she’s on her own.  Sighing loudly and slamming her lids shut again, she concentrates once more.

Dean hears her muffled voice attempt to swear with her plight.  Her hips moving involuntarily, her abs tensed up, every muscle in her arms pulling against her restraints, the sheen of sweat coating her skin as she fights so hard to follow his direction, he can’t stop himself from reaching to open his jeans.

Locked in her own mind of conflicted pleasure and self-restriction, Lizzy has her eyes closed as she finally panics.  No matter how hard she’s fought, the vibrator is winning and it’s happening so fast now.  Her voice heightens in pitch, a constant stream of stifled moans coming from her throat. Shit, shit, shit.  No good.  One more serious, loud groan and suddenly it stops.

Once the vibrator is shut off, Lizzy snaps her focus back over to Dean with eyes blown wide.  She’s so damn grateful that he shut it off so that she could stay within his set of rules but the sight she’s greeted with doesn’t keep her turned on state at bay in the least.  He’s lying on the couch breathing hard, pants open and stroking himself to the view of her.

“Oh fuck,” Dean loudly lets out as he lets the show he was just given seep in. 

The sound of utter, desperate need and desire that Lizzy makes when she looks him over nearly kills him.  Within a second he’s on his feet and rushing over to her.

“On your knees,” Dean demands and Lizzy drops to the floor in rapid obedience.  He reaches frantically behind her head to unbuckle the ball gag.  Once it’s off, Lizzy opening her jaw wide and closing it repeatedly to stretch it out, he tosses it aside and drops his pants instantly, boxer briefs going with them.  “Suck my dick.  _Now_.”

 She nearly inhales him instantly, happy to do what he asks of her.  She’s so worked up that any contact with him right now, even contact that doesn’t benefit her in the least, is very welcomed.  Her wrists being locked behind her back isn’t helping as Lizzy always likes to get a little creative when doing this, most of the time employing the assistance of her hands in the process, but she’ll still give it her all.  She takes down as much of him as she can with every bob of her head, taking him in with greedy want as her tongue dances across the bottom side of him.

“You love that,” Dean says to her, gathering her long hair behind her head to get a clear view of what she’s doing to him.  Fuck she looked good like that.  “You love sucking my cock, don’t you?”

Lizzy angles her eyes up to him, silently answering yes to the question by looking straight at him as she works rapidly, her own sexual hunger driving her all the while.  She sucks him hard over and over, greedily working him with only her mouth.

“Yeah, keep looking at me.”  He’s always loved that, seeing her bright brown eyes staring at him from her knees.  There was something damn sexy, unreal hot about her peering up at him with so much want while he was in her mouth.  “So good.”

Her cheeks hollowing out every time she draws back, Dean’s state of overdrive makes him want even more from her, makes him need to push her even further.  He’s never gone this far and made her do something so trusting and control less on her part but now was the time to go for it.

“Open wide,” Dean tells her.  “Gonna fuck you mouth.”

Lizzy breathes in deep and widens her mouth.  She’s never done this before but damn it if Dean using her right up isn’t the hottest thing ever then she doesn’t know what is.  Dean places a hand to either side of her head before thrusting into her mouth fast and hard over and over.

“Oh shit,” Dean groans as he works into her, her eyes never leaving his.  His pace is rapid, harsh, but she never flinches.  Lizzy watches with absolute awe as he turns into something else, something so crazed and controlling that she’s pretty sure she’s never seen him like this.  He abuses his privilege, and her mouth, and she’s never loved him more.  Not exactly the thought she expected to have at a time like this but it’s true. 

Soon enough her vision is blurred and makeup smearing as tears start making their way down her cheeks with the effort she puts forth, Dean hitting the back of her throat with every plunge.  She’s never felt more like a straight up porn star in her entire life.  She’s shockingly cool with it.

Never stopping, Dean wipes away the black trails on her face with the pads of his thumbs as he continues to grip her head.  He’s feeling slightly guilty with what he’s doing to her, making her tear up… but not enough of stop of course.  It’s amazing to see her like this, his Lizzy at his feet while letting him do whatever he wants to her.  God damn he loves her.

“So fucking good, my slutty little girl” he says to her, impressed and proud of her as he begins feeling his release coming on.  Her stare unrelenting as well as her willingness to prove her obedience, he can’t hold on any longer.  She’s just too much for him to handle.  “Fuck, L.  Jesus Christ.  Fuck!”

As if punctuating his sentence, Dean comes in her mouth, swearing the entire way.  His grip on the back of her head is hard and Lizzy just takes it, watching in utter infatuation.  He’s completely lost it, more than usual, and it’s fascinating to watch him.  Face twisted and hard, body tense, she sits still, jaw still wide and waits for him.

“Holy shit,” he finally says once the wave has passed.  He looks down at her as she seals her lips around him while he pulls out of her mouth, taking every ounce of his offering with her.  “Open.  Let me see.”

Lizzy, makeup ruined, face flushed, and lips red and plump with use, opens wide for him to see the white liquid coating her tongue.

“Son of a bitch, that’s fucking nasty,” he says in a pant while looking down at the saint that is his wife doing one of the dirtiest things he’s ever asked of her without question nor complaint.  “So beautiful.  You have no idea how fucking dirty you look right now.”

Lizzy smiles without closing her mouth with his overly pleased reaction, waiting for the go ahead from him. 

“Swallow it.”

Closing her mouth, Lizzy swallows down what he gave her and proceeds to lick her lips, making Dean groan deeply.

“You’re amazing,” he tells her, hooking arms under her own to help her stand up.  He turns her to face away from him and begins to unlock her wrists.  “Go to the bathroom and clean up.  Brush your teeth too.  Then come back here with a couple beers.”

Lizzy turns to face him once her arms are free and grins proudly up to him.  “Yes, sir.”

After washing off the ruined makeup, reapplying what came off, and brushing her teeth as asked, Lizzy makes a stop in the kitchen to grab some beers and heads back into the living room.  She walks to Dean on the couch as he’s now lying stretched out, fully clothed, and hands him one of the beers.  He takes both out of her hands instead and places them on the coffee table before lying back and pulling her on top of him by the arms.

Shocked by his allowing this, Lizzy goes with the flow, just happy to be this close to him and not sitting alone on the floor.

“You did so good,” Dean tells her, soft smile on his face as he kisses her sweetly.  “I can’t believe you just let me get away with that.”

“I’m supposed to, sir,” Lizzy grins wide.  “I do what you tell me to today.”

Cupping her face, he pulls her into a very serious, passionate kiss in thanks.  He’s still almost unsure of who this woman is on top of him right now.  Lizzy is a pain in his ass.  She’s too strong and questioning to let him do whatever he wants to her, or in life in general.  She has too much pride to let him use her like that.  This woman with him right now is certainly not the same person.

Lizzy hums against his mouth, her hands grasping the sides of his neck and body moving against his with utter need.  She’s been denied all day and she can’t help herself as she grinds her hips into his.

“If you can control yourself I think you should sit on the couch with me,” Dean says to her suddenly.

“If that’s what you want sir,” Lizzy answers, pressing her lips to his again as she brings her knees to either side of his hips, straddling him.

“That’s what I want,” he answers as he lightly takes her wrists and moves them off his neck.  He sits them both up before grabbing her hips.  Picking her up just enough, he deposits her into the empty seat on the other end of the couch.  “Here.”  He picks up a beer and opens it with his makeshift wedding ring before handing it to her.  “Pat’s scored a touchdown after an interception while we were busy.”

Dean sits back, his own beer in hand, and focuses on the TV.  Lizzy does all she can to bite back her total let down.  She thought she’d made him happy enough, proved herself enough to get something out of him for her own personal benefit, but no dice.  It was still a punishment but damn it did it leave her dying for something, _anything_.  She focuses on the TV to distract herself from her utter needy horniness.

On the next drive, the Patriots fumble the ball at the ten yard line and normally Lizzy would be an angry, swearing mess.  This time around, however, she learned her lesson.  She grit her teeth and white knuckled her beer bottle for a quick moment, but let the anger pass quietly.

Dean huffs a small laugh after watching her manage her football anger. 

“See, you’re learning, baby.”

* * *

 

 


	39. January 24th (Part 5)

* * *

Once the football game was over Lizzy still had the usual task at hand left to do. Every year for his birthday Lizzy refused to let any more than a week go by without her making her mother's famous apple pie for him. Before they were constantly on the road and she didn't always have the resources to make him his treat the day of. Luckily now they were in one place and she was going to take advantage. It just seemed like a no brainer and the moans of utter gastronomic satisfaction he makes when eating her mom's specialty is more than worth it. So once the Pats game was over she turned to face him and, knowing the rules didn't allow her to outright speak first, she stared at him until he asked her what she wanted. She explained her intentions and he was more than happy to let her leave his presence for a bit to make his birthday gift in food form.

She's almost done rolling out the dough when she hears him making his way down the hall. She smiles to herself. He always loves watching her in the kitchen. It's such a mundane task, cooking or baking, and granted she doesn't do it every day as she's far from a domestic goddess, but the fact that he never thought he'd get the chance to see her do such ordinary, normal things in  _their_  home is enough to make him love the sight.

"How goes it?" Dean questions, walking into the kitchen and dropping his empty beer bottle onto the counter.

"Well, sir," she answers simply while still working.

"Good," he returns and leans down into the refrigerator for another beer. Once he has one, he hip checks the door shut and turns to face her while popping the top with his ring. He watches her for a moment, still unable to stop himself from leering at her in that tight, revealing outfit of hers. Maxim would die to get her in their pages but she's all his… and only his. Yeah, God may be an asshole for what he's put them through for the most part but Dean' comfortable in saying the guy still must love him at least a little.

Lizzy turns around to find him ogling her, bowl of already prepared apple pie filling in her arm. She pulls an apple slice coated in sugar and spices out of the bowl and smiles, holding it out to him in offer. Dean smiles back and steps closer to her, bringing his mouth to her hand and taking the slice from her directly with his teeth.

"Mm," he hums while chewing as she turns back around and continues working. "How much longer you have until you're done in here?"

"Few more minutes, sir," she answers, rolling out half the dough for the bottom crust. "Just have to put it all together."

"Good," he tells her, moving to her until his body is pressed against her backside. He places his beer on the counter and leans down to make sure that what he tells her is done directly into her ear in a low tone. "It's getting a little lonely in the other room without you."

Lizzy visibly shivers with his words and with the feel of him against her. "Is it, sir?"

"It is," he confirms, his fingertips dancing down the length of her bare arm. "And while I was all by myself I couldn't help but start thinking about everything from today."

Lizzy licks her lips absentmindedly while breathing deeply. She isn't sure if this is a game or if he means it. This day has truly fucked with her mind.

"Found myself thinking about how fucking sexy you looked sitting on my lap, hands on the floor with your ass bare to me. How good your perfect cheeks looks while cherry red from my hands."

She lets go of the dough she was working on and grips the edge of the counter. Dean and his fucking voice.

"How good it felt to fuck your mouth and use you like the dirty little girl that you are." He reaches a hand around to the front of her leather shorts, rubbing between her legs over the tight fabric. "How much I loved watching you bouncing in my lap while you fucked me so good."

And she can't help herself. Lizzy lets out a little moan and presses her ass back into him with need, showing how damn turned on he got her in about thirty seconds.

"I bet you're still wet from before, aren't you?" Dean continues to work her up. "Tell me."

"I am, sir," Lizzy can only whisper as her voice gets caught up in her throat.

"You've been a good girl for a long time now, you know? Maybe I should reward you."

"Please," Lizzy nearly begs in a needy, desperate voice. She would die for that right now.

"Please what?"

"Please sir," she fixes her mistake while she turns around to face him. As she does, her focus solely on him and nothing else, she knocks the bowl of already made apple pie filling off the counter with her elbow, its entire contents spilling across the cheap linoleum floor. "Fuck!"

"It's fine," Dean brushes off, his hands running up and down her sides as she gets upset. "Just make more."

"I can't," she complains with the utter let down. "I used all the apples I fucking bought."

"So go get more," Dean shrugs.

"Dressed like this!? I can't do that," Lizzy tells him as she's supposed to be stuck in this outfit for the day. She's beyond sad about this unfortunate turn of events. "Shit, I finally have a way to actually make you your favorite thing in the world on your actual birthday and I blow it. We actually have a home, a real life, and I ruin it. What a fucking klutz…"

And then she realizes Dean is just staring at her again, much like after her outburst over the terrible call during the football game.

"No," she complains when she recognizes what is happening.

"You forget who you're talking to?" he asks her, her outburst not at all in accordance to his rules for the day.

"No, not at all, sir," she tries to backpedal immediately. "I'm just disappointed I can't please you… stomach wise, I mean… sir."

"I know you are," Dean nods. "But you did kinda blow it. You know I love my birthday apple pie. Now I'm not gonna get what was promised to me."

"And I am so sorry about that…"

"Maybe you shouldn't get what I just promised to you then."

"Baby, no…" she begins to plead desperately. All day, no pleasure for her, just immense amounts of turn on and build up with no release in sight… she can't handle it anymore.

"Baby?" Dean asks with surprise. "Is that my name today?"

"Shit," she huffs under her breath, one more screw up to add to the ever growing list. It's rapid fire mistakes since she knocked over that bowl. "No, sir. Baby is not your name today. It's sir."

"You just keep fucking up, don't you?" Dean strongly says, his tone heading more towards serious and stern than it was just moments ago.

Lizzy just nods and lowers her eyes, her disappointment in herself growing by the second. She has to save this day somehow. She has to let go and let him get his way. She has to stop speaking like herself and start speaking like his slave. She has to give in and trust him fully. Why can't she just do that?

"You look sad," he says to her, a finger lifting her chin so that she'll meet his gaze. She really does look so sad.

"I am, sir."

"Why?"

"Because I feel like no matter what I just can't do what I've been told to, sir," she answers very truthfully. "I always run my mouth, always have this stubborn thing in me to do what I want and say what I want when I want. And the worst part is… I'm trying. I honestly am. And it's not that I don't trust you or want to please you. I do. I  _really_  do… which is why I'm so sad. I want to make you proud of me today. I want you to get everything you want. Sir."

"Shiiiiiiit," Dean lets out in a long complaint and he sighs. If that was supposed to get her some sympathy it sure did work. Now he has to wonder how the hell he's supposed to punish her and use her up after she says something like that. Now he just wants to tell her it's all fine and hug her.

When was it he became such a sap again? Fuck, that's right… the day he met Lizzy.

Seeing the shift in him Lizzy gets nervous. She's ruining his day. She thinks quick.

"I… you could always try again, sir," she attempts to fix everything. "To put me in line. To teach me."

"Meaning?" he asks with narrow eyes.

"Meaning…" she takes a deep breath before giving herself over to him completely once more. "I think I deserve to be punished, sir. I haven't been a good slave and if you would be kind enough to give it another try I want to learn. I want to be good and make you happy. Really happy. Please, sir?"

The way she looks up at him is suddenly wanton, meek, and somehow one of the sexiest looks she's ever given him. His wife is asking for him to abuse his privilege today. Damn it all to hell if he's not going to take advantage of this.

"So you're saying," Dean starts, stepping right into her space as he wraps his fingers around her throat, gripping lightly enough over her collar. "You want me to try one more time to teach you your place?"

"Yes sir," Lizzy says with all honesty as she stands there, hands forced not to reach for him as she's not allowed to touch him unless given permission.

"Well, maybe you actually are learning," Dean smirks as he pulls her closer to him by her neck, running his tongue over her lips once. "Clean up this mess and meet me in the living room."

"Yes sir," she repeats and tries not to smile.

* * *

Kitchen clean and nervous excitement on high, Lizzy takes a moment to ready herself. If today has taught her anything it's that her husband has one creative, and one highly kinky, mind. She never saw some of it coming, especially the vibrator torture. That almost killed her. But then again… she kinda loved it too. Ok, so maybe she's the one with the kinks after all, or the masochistic mind. Or maybe they really were just made for each other. Probably option two.

Deep breath in through her nose and out through her pursed lips, Lizzy starts heading down the hallway. She knows he's already aware that she's heading his way. Her heels on the wooden floor give her up instantly.

When she rounds the corner she's greeted by Dean seated on the couch. The coffee table has been cleared off except for a couple items he chose to keep there, one that she instantly recognizes they haven't used just yet.

"Kitchen cleaned?"

"Yes sir, it is," Lizzy confirms for him as she stands patiently in the doorway

"Awesome. Now strip."

Lizzy stands there for a beat. The order came out so fast she barely realized it was said.

"Strip, sir?" Lizzy questions, making sure she heard correctly.

“Yes,” Dean confirms for her.  “I want no clothes.  Just the cuffs, the belt, and the collar… oh, and the shoes.  I really like the shoes.”  He winks and grins mischievously, the same grin that makes him boyishly hot and always makes Lizzy reel with the sight of it.

Lizzy nods and bites her bottom lip as she reaches behind her neck and opens the clasp of her halter top, the straps falling down and baring her chest.  She watches Dean’s face as she moves, his eyes glued to her movements and face slack with desire as she reveals more of her body.  Slowly, she reaches behind herself again to unzip the back of her top, it falling away completely and landing on the floor at her feet.  Her hands then reach for her shorts, thumbs hooking into the waist of them.

“Turn around when you take those off,” Dean says to her.  He loves her ass far too much to miss this opportunity.

“Yes sir,” Lizzy smiles sexily while facing away from him.  She lowers her shorts down her legs, once more taking her time for his benefit.  She bends at the waist while keeping her knees straight, her ass up in the air and out in his direction.

“Uh,” Dean grunts quietly, never having gotten tired of seeing that.  He grips his knees hard to keep from palming himself through his jeans as she steps out of her bottoms.  Lizzy turns to look at him, waiting obediently for instruction, and he takes a second to look her over.  “You are… fucking amazing.”  And she really is.  She’s completely perfect to him.  She’s everything he could have ever wanted compiled into one painfully beautiful woman.

“Thank you, sir,” she grins out, a blush creeping over her skin.  With him staring right at her like that it makes her slightly bashful, something she hasn’t been while around Dean in so long.

Dean beckons her with a curl of his finger and she walks to him, her heart quickening as she prepares for the unknown. 

He reaches up for her once she stands before him, his hands sliding up over her breasts, pausing to pinch her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

The involuntary hum from somewhere deep in her throat at the sensation is accompanied by a shudder.  Fuck.  She really is all kinds of turned on still from this day.  Everything feels even better, even more intense than it normally does and Dean’s reading that from her instantly.

“This one is gonna be tough on you, isn’t it?” he asks her, his hands still at work.  Lizzy nods as she sighs.  “Are you gonna be able to make it through?”

“I’m not sure, sir,” she admits as his hands finally move on and upward. He slides one hand over her shoulder, down her arm, and then tightly around her wrist as his other hand once more comes to her throat.  He grabs her just hard enough and pulls with both hands until her face is just an inch from his and her hand is pressed into the front of his tented pants.

“You feel that?”

“Yes sir,” Lizzy responds as her hand fully recognizes the hardness it’s landed on. 

“That’s all because of you,” he says to her, his eyes traveling to her lips as he speaks.  “That’s what you’ve done to me all fucking day long.”

He kisses her hard as Lizzy finds herself incredibly turned on.  She grabs him through his jeans with need.

“I wish you hadn’t fucked up again,” Dean tells her, his tone in that low and growling place that it gets to when he’s past turned on by her.  “As happy as I am to use you up again, I was ready to make you scream.”

She whimpers at this, actually whimpers. 

“Do you want that?” Dean asks her, his hand around her neck tightening a little as his lips brush hers when he speaks.  “You wanna scream my name when I make you lose your mind?”

“Yes.  Please, sir.  _Please_ ,” she answers in a desperate, needy tone that she’s never had before.  She’s never been pushed this far, made this absolutely despondent by someone until right now.  She knows that if she paused and looked at how she was acting the feminist in her would be disappointed yet at the same time, since she’s with Dean and _he’s_ the one making her this way, she doesn’t care all that much in the long run, not any more.  This day is actually changing her.

“I’ll make you a deal then,” Dean continues on.  “You get through this punishment and make it to midnight, when it isn’t my birthday anymore, I’ll do that for you.  I’ll make it worth all the effort you put forth today.  Deal?”

“Oh God yes,” Lizzy says without even thinking, her voice on rushed out autopilot with the promise of pleasure for herself.      

“Oh God yes… what?” he has to ask her once again.

“Oh God yes, sir,” she corrects and instantly his mouth is on her again, kissing her something strong and fast, his tongue moving against hers as he can feel her hand grasping him harder.

“Get over my lap,” he tells her sharply at the same time as he pulls on the collar around her neck and the belt around her waist.  He roughly maneuvers her until she’s lying over his knee, her bare ass lifted and over his thigh.  “Grab the couch arm with both hands.”  She does instantly.  Dean knew that what he was about to do would have her reeling and needing something to hold onto so he thinks ahead.  “Don’t let go.”

“Yes sir.”

He smooths a hand across her exposed curves with relish.  “You like when I spanked your ass before?”

“Yes sir,” she says quickly right back, the thought of it still making her overheat.  She looks over her shoulder to peer at him.

“You remember why I did it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Why?”

“Because I was a bad girl,” Lizzy says, a smirk threatening to pull at her lips.  She couldn’t help it.

“That’s right,” Dean smiles wide in a devious way.  “And you really haven’t gotten any better, have you?” 

Before she can answer, a hand comes down hard on her right cheek.  She yelps out with the instant and sharp sting of it.

“No sir,” she answers in a huffed breath, her body tense as she lies on her stomach across his thighs. 

“I’m hoping you’ll finally learn this go around,” he lets her know as he slaps her left side with full force, her body jerking forward with it.  “Because I’m going all out on you this time.”  He open hands her right side again, her skin turning red in the shape of his hand.  “I’m not gonna hold back.”  Another one on the left.  “I promise that you’ll know your place after this.”  He spanks her once more per side and Lizzy shouts with the sting of the last one. 

Her thought process has all but stopped at this point.  She’s reveling in the pain that’s accompanying the thrill of the whole situation she’s in.  If she thought she loved Dean taking charge of her before then she’s obsessed with it now. 

He brings his hand strongly down onto her again and again, continuing to alternate between sides, and this time the pain is harsher, burning more than before with his repeated blows.

“Fuck,” Lizzy grits out in a whisper through her teeth with the pain.  It’s not that she didn’t like it.  Not at all, actually.  She’s come to love the pain that occasionally comes with the pleasure of being with Dean.  It’s just that usually when he smacks her ass it isn’t so repeatedly and he hadn’t already done it that day.  The pain, although delicious, is strong.

Dean hears her nearly silent swear and immediately has his free hand wrapping around her long, black hair.  Once he has a good handful he yanks hard, her head snapping back and instantly looking up at the ceiling as she moans with the sudden change.

“What was that?” he asks her to repeat, an even harder slap on her left side with the slip up.

“I said fuck, sir,” she repeats for him.  “I’m sorry sir.”  She immediately apologizes, not to make anything stop but to literally amend for her mistake.  She does want to listen and be obedient.  His work has paid off completely.  Lizzy is totally compliant, totally submissive, and she’s worshiping the man she’s with like she knows he deserves. 

“Did you forget that you’re supposed to only speak when spoken to first?”  Dean continues on, the loud skin to skin sound echoing in the room.

“I did.  I’m sorry sir,” Lizzy answers back, her voice struggling with how bent back her neck is.  “I couldn’t help it, sir.”

“Oh, well then I’m sorry…” Dean starts sarcastically as he runs his hands over the reddened flesh of her backside.  “I guess I couldn’t help but do this then.”  He then lets his hand glide between the crack of her ass then down between her thighs.  “Oops.”

“Ah!” Lizzy shouts out, her nails digging into the sofa arm with how incredible his hand simply running over her most needy area feels right now.  The all-day build up, the endless and release less punishments, the way he’s looked at her all damn day… because of that every touch is magnified now.  As his fingers torturously massage her clit she can’t stop herself from moaning like a cheap whore as she writhes in his lap.

“Uh-oh,” he says with a full smile on his lips and an evil look burning in his eyes as he leans down to speak in her ear.  “I think you like that too much.”  He lets his fingers dip inside of her and she jumps with the feeling.

He releases her hair and his fingers move faster, Lizzy losing her mind in the process.  She ducks her head down and furrows her brow as her hips buck involuntarily.  She doesn’t say actual words, just loud sounds of too much pleasure.

“You want me to stop?” he asks, knowing how hard it would be for her to answer this one the right way.  His fingers move even faster as they press against just the right spot.  He knows quite well how to make her crazy.

“No, but I think you should, sir,” Lizzy groans out, her head still lowered with her chin to her chest as she death grips the couch.

“Why’s that?” Dean questions, fascinated by her.

“Because I can’t stop myself from coming, sir.  Please, you have to stop.  I want to be your good little girl.  Please stop.”

“God damn it,” he marvels as he instantly takes his hand away from her.  She immediately sighs with utter relief and melts into his lap.  “That was the perfect answer.”  He grabs her shoulders and turns her until she sits up in his lap, her body sitting sideways on him.

She smiles wide at him, ecstatic she could control herself.  She knows this isn’t over but so far so good.  She’s a hard willed woman, especially when it’s Dean’s happiness on the line.  She’ll do her best for him always.

“I was right,” Dean smiles to her as her hooks a couple fingers into her collar and holds strongly.  “You were still wet from before.  Dripping, actually.”

“I know, sir,” she responds with ease. She sits with her hands in her lap, following closely to his instructions for the day.  She will not under any circumstances fuck anything up here.  She’s not willing to let that happen, not again.

Dean grins wide at her with her response.  He leans forward and kisses her deeply, letting her know how well she’s doing right now.  Watching her transformation from stubborn to loosened up to almost compliant to finally this completely submissive version of his wife throughout the day has been thrilling.  This is exactly what he wanted from today.  To be the king and have his fun while for once Lizzy is completely dependent on him.  To say that feels good would be to say the biggest understatement ever.

“You know,” Dean starts once he ends the kiss and smirks at her, ready to keep pushing and see how far he can really get her to go.  “I’ve always wondered if you had any idea how good you taste.  Because you do.  You taste so fucking good.”  While holding strong eye contact with her, his green eyes glinting with lust, he pops one of the two fingers that had been inside of her into his mouth, sucking her off of his digit.  “Mm,” he hums as he slides his now clean finger out of his mouth.  “So good.”

Lizzy just watches with wide eyed fascination.  He’s never done that before, or at least not while she was looking.  Why that was so intensely hot she’ll never know… but fuck, it sure was.

“Open that dirty mouth,” Dean commands to her and she parts her lips while knowing full well what he was up to. 

She keeps her eye sight hard on him as he brings his other still slick from being inside her finger into her mouth. 

“Suck it clean.”

Swirling her tongue around his digit she licks herself fully off of his middle finger and pulls back slowly, releasing his digit with a little popping sound before licking her lips.  Dean grunts with the sight.

“Good?” Dean asks, fully curious as to what she thinks.

“Very, sir.  You were right.”

“Such a dirty girl,” Dean says with sheer want at the display.  Jesus, he could probably get anything out of her right now.  “Stand up.”

Lizzy does and Dean follows right after her.  He moves her by the hips until she’s facing one end of the coffee table.  With a hand pressing her upper back forward and the other still gripping her hip, he bends her in half.  Lizzy places her hands on the table top and braces herself as Dean nudges her feet wide apart with one of his own.

“Don’t move,” he tells her as he reaches for the spreader bar on their dinner table.  He’s been waiting to use this one.  Fucking Lizzy from behind is a favorite of his and this little tool is going to make it that much more fun.  Maybe he should write a thank you letter to Krista for all this….

Crouching to the floor at her feet, Dean wraps a cuff at each end of the long, black bar around her ankles.  Lizzy’s legs are forced apart now by a solid three feet.

“Beautiful,” Dean smiles at his handiwork as he moves to stand behind her.  His hands unable to help themselves, he starts running them over her form; across her back, over her round and red cheeks, down her thighs.  “You’re gorgeous… so fucking perfect,” he tells her as his hands soak her in.  “Do you know how sexy you are?  How beautiful?”

Lizzy somewhat freezes for a second to contemplate.  She never fully understood why Dean though of her body as better than others.  Hers wasn’t a perfect body.  She wasn’t especially tall or super model-like in the least.  She may have a slim waist but Lizzy has curves.  She has C-cup breasts which are paired with round hips and a comparable ass.  Sure, she was better off than most, but in her eyes, with the scars and beaten down body that she has she wasn’t particularly special.  Dean is the special one.  He had the devastating looks.  His deep yet bright green eyes, his pouty and fucking sexy as hell lips, his strong and muscular body, well-endowed manhood, and his just too beautiful to put into words overall look always reduced her to a drooling mess if she really thought about it.  It always felt uneven to her.

“You’re the beautiful one, sir.”  Lizzy speaks the truth for the first time.  Yes, she knows she isn’t ugly.  She knows that she can turn a couple heads when she goes out in public.  But she was not to the level of Dean Winchester.  He is literally the hottest thing she’s ever seen. 

“What?” Dean questions with confusion over her answer as he lets his hands continue to roam about her form.

“You’re the one that’s beautiful, sir,” she says again, for the very first time ever saying aloud how she truly feels about their relationship.  “People always look at _you_ when we’re out.  They can’t believe my luck when we’re seen together.  You’re exceptional.  You’re so beautiful it’s hard to look at you and for whatever reason the angels felt I deserved that in my life.  Hot chicks are a dime a dozen.  Hot men are much, _much_ harder to come by.  I’m the lucky one.  You’re the beautiful one here… sir.”

Hiding his smile from her with the huge compliment, he pushes her back down a little more until her elbows are on the coffee table again.

“Flattery will get you nowhere today,” Dean tells her.

“It’s fine, sir.  I wasn’t sucking up.  I was being honest.”

He huffs and moves on from the topic once the awkwardness sets in for him.  Too emotional and chickish for the moment.  “Ah, would ‘ya look at that,” Dean marvels as he stares over her abused bottom while unzipping his pants.  “Red’s a good color on you, baby.”

She smiles as she listens to him clearly taking off his clothes from behind her. 

“You like that I marked you all up like that, don’t you?”

“Oh yes, sir,” she honestly answers.

“Wish I could show the world that ass right now,” he continues on, pulling his shirt over his head.  “Show them the look of my handprint on it… show them that you’re mine and no one else’s.  Bet you’d do that for me too, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes sir,” Lizzy smiles, loving the extremely possessive nature he’s divulging into right now.

“God I wanna fuck you so bad,” he talks through his work and once he’s naked he steps up behind her again.  He grasps her hip with one hand and himself with the other and without pause shoves into her hard.  She rocks forward and inhales deep with the power behind his movement.  “Good thing I don’t have to wait.”

One very long, drawn out moan from Lizzy and he starts to just slightly feel bad.  She’s dying and he knows it.  This whole thing has tested her over and over again.  Now she needs her release yet no matter how much he does she’ll keep fighting against it.  Because he told her to.  It’s all for him. 

“You gonna make it for me?” Dean calls out to her as he thrusts hard into her one more time, making her whole body jolt forward hard.

“I’ll try my hardest,” she very honestly says, her voice just short of groaning with pleasure already.  “I promise I’ll try my best, sir.”

Grinning to himself quickly, Dean starts to work into her, setting a strong, even pace that has her moaning in no time.  

“God damn,” Dean grunts hard as he fucks her, now finding himself quite happy she screwed up again.  “Uh, L… love how good that pussy of yours is.”

Gritting her teeth as her nails claw into the wooden coffee table, she concentrates hard.  He just feels so good.  But she has to try and make it through, do as he told her to. 

“You want to come baby?” he asks her, hoping to pry a little dirty talk from her.

“Yes!” Lizzy nearly shouts her response, her voice labored and strong within the response.  She’s so worked up, so utterly needy for him it almost hurts.

“How bad?”

“So bad,” she pants and lowers her head, desperately trying to keep her orgasm at bay in order to please him.  “So fucking bad… please, sir.  I need it.”

“ _Need_ it, huh?” Dean smiles through the pleasure, loving her distress and sheer determination to stay true to his orders.

“Yes.  Please, sir!  Please!”

“No,” Dean instantly denies her as he keeps his pace hard and fast through her shame-inducing begging.  “You need to be punished for ruining my birthday pie.”

The sound she makes then is something he’s never heard from her ever before.  It’s a mix of so many things; a moan of bliss, a groan of deep and total disappointment, and something akin to sob that’s lodged in her throat with need so strong it’s dominating her as much as Dean himself is.  She’s absolutely hanging on by just a thread. 

With what he chooses to do next, many would call Dean a seriously sadistic person.  He on the other hand wouldn’t say the same as he just couldn’t help himself.  After all, he did warn her before today that if she let him do this he wasn’t holding back and she agreed.  He’s going for broke as he reaches quickly around to the front of her body.

“Oh, God no,” Lizzy pants out when she feels the change.  She’s panicking now.  How he could possibly expect her to hold out, to not fall straight off the edge as he not only fucks her from behind but uses his insanely talented fingers on her, she couldn’t know.  He’s making her work harder than she was prepared for.  Now, as massages her clit just perfectly, just how he knows she most easily gets off with, the alarm bells go off.  She’s not going to be able to make it.  The building pleasure let her know she won’t be able to do as he asked.

Quickly evaluating her options, Lizzy picks up one of her hands from the table and grabs his wrist hard, pulling his helping hand away from her.  “Stop, sir.  Please.  Stop.”

The second Lizzy takes it upon herself to regain even this small amount of control Dean snaps.  He’s lost within this game of his and now he’s pissed.  He’s in control.  If he decided to make her job insanely difficult then so be it.  She’s not supposed to have a say in the matter.

Dean sharply pulls out of her and yanks her up until standing by her shoulders, her legs still spread wide with the bar attached to her ankles and she falters a little before regaining her balance.  He brings both his hands around her throat.  Much like before, it wasn’t about cutting off her air.  It was about getting her full attention.  His hands strongly holding her and pulling her back into him until his lips are just an inch from her ear, Dean’s expression grows dark and ireful.

“What the hell was that?” his voice comes out in a growl, the voice so low that Lizzy shivers with the sound.  Now that’s something _she’s_ never heard from _him_.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” Lizzy starts, fear and lust flashing through her expression as her hands grasp at her thighs to keep from magnetically reaching for him.  “I wasn’t gonna make it like you wanted me to.”

“Your job is to take everything I fucking give you today,” he reminds angrily.  “You don’t get to control _any_ of it.  I get to do whatever I want however I want to you.  Your job is to take it all.”

Lizzy nods slightly, speechless for a moment with his words and demeanor.  “I’m sorry.  I am.  I just wanted to do as you told me so badly, sir.”

Staring at her profile as the wheels turn in his domineering head, Lizzy inhales sharply when she peeks over to him and finds an unexpected smile spreading across his face.

Dean’s once more going to take this opportunity to up the ante a bit.  He grasps hard to her hair and pushes her forward a bit.  “Get stomach down onto the table.”  He doesn’t wait for her to move.  Instead he guides her there using the hand in her hair and using the other to position her.

It’s a little awkward going, the spreader bar still attached and all, but she manages to get herself onto the coffee table with his ungentlemanly help.  The second she’s lying on the furniture Dean walks away to the oversized upholstered chair where he moved all his tools of the trade.  He quickly grabs two carabiner fasteners and makes his way back to her. 

Lizzy watches over her shoulder with shock at his manner with which he moves and acts towards her.  Again, she’s never seen this side of him.  Well, she has sort of.  He’s been rough with her before.  But this level is something very new and very different. 

With hard and fast movements, Dean grabs the bar between her ankles and bends her knees until the black rod is laying across her ass cheeks.  He then takes one of her wrists and pulls it behind her back.  Binding it in place with one of the carabiners, the metal ring on her wrist cuff now locked to the cuff at her ankle, Dean repeats this with her other arm.  When he’s done she’s immobile for the most part, wrists and ankles bound together and her legs still spread wide.

Remembering her request that she not be made completely tied down into one spot, he waits for a moment to gauge her reaction.  He never tied her with rope and she isn’t strapped to the table (That wouldn’t be good for _either_ of them!) but she really can’t move all that much.  Dean decides it’s best to give her the time to decide if this is where she calls it too much or not.  He’s silently praying while willing himself to stay put for the short pause that she can handle this. 

With her bright chestnut eyes looking back at him as he stands behind her, she nods her head once with a serious expression.  She’s still on board and she wants him to not to hesitate so much. 

With long strides and his hopeful face falling to that dark and determined one, Dean moves to stand directly in front of her head. 

“Open,” he tells her and she understands instantly.  She opens her mouth wide and allows him in.  “Suck it.”

He didn’t really need to even say it.  Lizzy’s mouth was already working him over before he could finish his command.  She struggles a bit a first, the awkward and restrictive position she’s in not an easy one to maneuver around.  It doesn’t take too long before she’s found her rhythm and had him moaning and talking like a madman with just her oral skills alone.

“Oh God,” he mumbles out as he brings his hands to the back of her head.  “Take it all down, the whole thing.” 

Relaxing her throat she allows him to push all the way into her mouth, deep throating every inch he has. 

“Shit,” he awes as he holds her there for a second, enjoying the feel of being fully in her mouth.  He’s always loved when a chick could do that, especially when working with the size he had to offer.  He’s still impressed every time Lizzy did this.

She hums the best she can, letting him know she can’t exactly breathe and he pulls out of her mouth.  She takes a deep breath into her lungs before peering up to him with a smile.

Shaking his head with disbelief, Dean grins right back.  “You really love having my dick in your mouth, don’t you?’

“Yes, sir,” she emphatically answers with all honesty. 

“You want more?” he smirks out, already knowing her excellent answer.

“Yes please, sir,” she say to him and obediently opens her mouth without prompting. 

“That’s my dirty little girl,” Dean cheers her on a bit as he lets her have what she wants.  She quickly continues to work him over, her tongue swiping across the underside of him and her cheek’s hollowing with every drawback.  Really she’s just calculating her best chances of getting through this all without falling into an orgasm.  She figures the longer she blows him the less time it’ll take in the long run for him to come and the better chance she’ll have of following his orders.  Devious, maybe… but she’s smart.

“Fuck L,” he punches out, her warm, wet mouth just perfect as it envelopes him with total enthusiasm and skill.  “So fucking good.  You suck dick just like an ugly girl.”

She struggles not to laugh at his moment of sheer comedy.  He makes her laugh all the time, his mouth quick and his wit just flat out hilarious as hell to her.  Why he chooses _now_ to drop a line that funny to her she doesn’t understand but she does what she can to let it roll off and not affect her work. 

“But you’re no ugly girl, are you?” Dean continues, running a hand down her back and over her reddened ass cheeks.  “You’re the hottest fucking chick I’ve ever seen.  And the best part is you’re all mine.  Every inch of you.”  His hand slides between her cheeks again and Lizzy moans through her full mouth. 

As he feels every said inch of her he can he starts to realize he needs to stop the amazing job she’s doing.  He wants to fuck her, badly, but if he lets her continue he’ll just ruin any chance he had of getting that.  A few second more he pulls out of her mouth with a saddened moan of painful self-control.

“Fuck,” Dean harshly whispers with how insanely good she felt just now.  “That mouth is lethal.”

She just smiles up at him from her bound position, her pride written on her face that she could make up for her momentary mistake.  Clearly he’s over the misstep by now.

Peering down at her, her huge bright smile aimed at him, he reaches down and drags his thumb across the corner of her mouth, wiping away some saliva.  “So fucking talented.  I could have come in your mouth again so easily it hurt to stop.  But I want fuck you too much to let that happen.”  He moves back behind her, standing once more.  “I am perfectly fine with fucking the life outta that pussy instead.”

Standing there for a second, looking her over, he gets inspired once more.  Quickly unlocking her wrists from her ankles, Dean grabs her hips and pulls her up by them.

“Get that ass in the air,” he tells her, Lizzy quickly listening while bringing her forced apart knees under her.  Dean then pushed down on her upper back until the side of her face is pressed into the coffee table surface.  “Reach between your legs and grab the bar.”

Reaching down Lizzy does so.  Her ass high in the air with only her right shoulder, the right side of her face, and her knees holding her up, she’s found herself in yet another highly restricted position as her wrists are once more locked in place, this time to the center of the black bar.  With everything on display, not an of ounce shame left to be had in her, Dean runs his hands along her ass cheeks again, appreciating her completely yielding position he’s gotten her in.

“Mm, mm,” Dean awes at her before grabbing onto himself hard.

Without warning Dean barrels right into her.  Lizzy moans out loudly, her need still strong and ruling her entire being.  Yet she still has to find a way to hold off.  Just hold off a little longer.

The pace he sets worries Lizzy.  It’s not fast, it’s not rushed like she assumed it’d be… which means he’s still got plenty of time in him.  She certainly doesn’t.

“Oh my God,” Dean groans out, a palm pressed to each cheek as he watches himself disappear within her over and over again.  He drops his hand down hard onto her already red-tinged right cheek and she yelps out with the sting.  “I love this ass.  I just fucking love it.”

“It’s all yours, sir,” Lizzy pants out, using her voice as much as he may allow to get him going.  She just needs him to come.  If she can make him lose it soon enough she can keep to her goal for the day.  His pleasure comes first.  She wants it to.

“Don’t I know it,” Dean grins back. 

“I hope you do, sir,” Lizzy keeps it up.  “All of me… it’s yours.  I want to belong to you.  I don’t want anyone else ever to have me like this.”

“Oh,” Dean punches out a moan at her words.

“Just you, sir,” Lizzy smartly continues on, looking to give him the end he’s looking for.  “You own me.”

“Oh my God,” he awes, everything just too much for him.  “Oh fuck, Lizzy.”

She smiles to herself just slightly with hearing her name, her real name.  Not baby… or dirty little girl… or my slave.  She’s still Lizzy.  No matter what the day, the rules, the fantasy or the self-indulgence, he’s always fucking _her_.  He’s always banging _her_ and not fantasizing of another woman.  How many wives these days can say that?

With another loud moan of perfect pleasure, Dean swiftly pulls out of her.  With Lizzy completely bound, her right facial cheek, her right shoulder, and her knees pressed to the coffee table and her ass high in the air while immobile, she’s broken completely.  He broke her.   Holy shit, he did it.  She’s completely yielding, submissive in every sense.  She finally gave in.

He made her totally, without question, completely, 100% dependent on him.  This was the goal, this is exactly what this day was about. 

Fuck he loves her more than anything.

And with that last thought rambling around his head, Dean gives in.  He pulls out of her and comes hard, painting several streams of white across her round, elevated and right in his view ass cheeks.

“Fuck!” Dean yells out, louder than Lizzy can remember him ever being during such a moment in their extensive sexual past.  “Oh fuck.  Oh God.  Lizzy.”

As he rides out his huge moment before he comes back down, Lizzy keeps still.  She doesn’t have a choice.  She’s bound in place, her arms locked between her own legs, but she couldn’t care.  She did it.  She did as he asked.  She made it through.

A sense of accomplishment overcoming her at the same time as the sensation of something wet drips down her behind, she sighs happily. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Dean pants out behind her, still grabbing her hip hard with fingers digging into her skin.  “Oh… fuck.”

If she could she’d mention his overuse of the f-word because of how hard he’s come but she must be spoken to first.  She knows the rules well.

“Whoa, shit,” Dean says with recognition once he’s back and really looking at her bent in half and severely uncomfortable looking position on their coffee table.  They eat there.  They drink there.  They live on that table and there she is locked up and waiting for instruction.  Shit, maybe he went too far.

Reaching to open the hooks keeping her in place, Dean starts letting her free.  “L, Jesus…”

He frees her arms and pulls her up by the shoulders until her back is straight and she’s up on her knees with her ankles still spread wide with the spreader bar. 

Her vulnerability is not as captivating as he thought it would be now that he isn’t a raging ball of need.  Seeing her like that, being weak and having just given in to every whim he had… he’s feeling slightly wrong.  He’s feeling powerful as hell, but still a bit wrong.

“That was… too much,” he says to her with sincerity and his usual love for her as he walks around to face her, thinking this was in fact too much now that he can actually think straight.  “I’m… um...” he begins to slightly stutter as he pulls her until she’s standing.  He immediately kneels to the floor and starts to free her ankles.  “That was… a lot…”

“Sir?” Lizzy questions down to him as she stands there and watches him at her feet.  She doesn’t know what to quite think about this extremely sudden shift in attitude.

He moves quickly, wanting her completely free as soon as he can get her there.  Without his hormones going into overdrive his guilt for pushing her as far as he did is kicking in.

Once the spreader bar is gone and she’s not bound or locked in any way, Dean backs away from her and looks at her with his hands on his hips and eyes wide. 

They just stare at one another for a moment, neither speaking as after all that just happened what is there to say? 

“Uh, why don’t you go take a shower,” Dean suggests to her as he looks her over.  Her makeup is a mess, running down her eyes… and her backside isn’t a whole lot better.

“Oh,” Lizzy nods as she didn’t expect that to be the first thing he said to her after all that.  She smiles anyways.  “Yes, sir.” 

Lizzy starts to go but Dean stops her by standing in front of her and blocking her way.  Starts to help her out of her equipment.

As he works, Lizzy watches.  He takes his time, removing the belt and cuffs gingerly before dropping onto the floor at her feet.  He shocks her with his sudden change and _his_ more submissive position at the moment.  Dean starts the painstaking task of untying and loosening the laces of the patent leather, huge boots she’s been wearing all day.

Lizzy tries to keep her grin at bay, the one she wants to let out so badly with his caring actions, but she can’t.

“What’re you smiling about up there?” Dean asks her as he pulls one boot all the way off. 

“Ahh,” Lizzy sighs with relief.  “Fuck that feels better!”  She wiggles her toes a bit with her newfound freedom, happy to be standing flat foot on at least one side.

“Gimme the other one,” he says as he reaches for the other leg, ready to get her comfortable.  That reaction tells the truth.  She may not have complained but she’s been dealing with the negative effects of the cumbersome outfit he got her all day.

Her smile still in place, Dean winks up at her once before pulling the second boot off.

“Yes,” Lizzy huffs with happiness as she rolls her other ankle.  “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome,” Dean says back while standing up.  “Take a shower… a long one.  Hot one.  And get rid of the makeup for good. And then go to the bedroom and get dressed.”

“I can certainly do that, sir,” she grins to him and starts to walk away.  Dean once more stops her, grabbing her upper arm quickly and pulling her into him.  He cups her face and presses his lips to hers.  It’s sweet this time, his embrace, and so gentle that she’s forgotten this was in him.  It’s been a very long time since she’s felt this from him.  It’s beautiful.

When he ends the kiss, backing away very slowly, he lets her arm go and takes off the last item she still had on... the ever hated collar. 

“Go ahead,” he tells her once it’s off.

She smiles at him.  “And I was just beginning to like that thing, sir,” she winks and walks off, ready for her long overdue, relaxing shower.

* * *

 

Sighing deeply with sheer and intense contentment, Lizzy looks into the bathroom mirror at herself after a shower for the second time that day. She smiles to her un-colored face, the intense makeup she put on earlier now long gone. As she runs a wide-toothed comb through her hair, she's happy to see the old Lizzy back. No makeup, no hair products, no crazy bondage clothing… she's herself again. When she looks in the mirror she sees Lizzy once more and after the day she's been through she's a wonderful sight to see.

Don't get her wrong, the sex slave thing was good. Really good. She felt sexy and completely wanted all day. It was freeing to be so revealed and leered at by her husband all day. And it was a learning experience. She found that she could surrender herself to another completely. That was something she never previously thought possible.

But she's had enough for now. Only one more hour to go anyways.

The shower kneading out and loosening her tight from the day muscles, she's feeling refreshed and renewed. Maybe that wasn't just from the shower though.

Dean made sure that they weren't going to have this day unless she would get something out of it too. She certainly did. Lizzy's always been tough and independent. She's never let herself really be fully dependent on another person, not even Lou. Not even Dean… well, until now.

It felt good to not think, to let her very rigid guard down and to have pure faith in Dean. After everything she assumed she'd be a little angry, maybe slightly embarrassed, but she feels quite the opposite. She's never trusted Dean more.

Walking her bare feet down the hardwood floor of their hallway while wearing a towel, she has to wonder what he's got planned for her to wear this time around. She walks into the bedroom and after a glance at the clothing left out for her on the bed she just smiles wide with happiness.

A few minutes later and Lizzy makes her way into the living room. When she gets to the doorway in her favorite Led Zeppelin t-shirt and grey, cotton yoga pants that are the most comfortable she has, she pauses and grins wide once more. Everything is put away. All the bondage implements and sex toys are nowhere to be seen. Instead she finds their typical night in in front of her. Dean, also in sweatpants and a t-shirt, is sitting on the couch in front of the TV with a movie ready to go. He made her a bag of the extra butter popcorn she likes best and there is a Jameson on the rocks resting on a coaster in front of her open spot on the couch.

"You quitting on me, sir?" Lizzy asks with a jesting tone. It's only a little before eleven at night. It's his birthday for another hour.

"Hey, it's  _my_  birthday, remember?" Dean tells her. "I get to have it however I want and right now I want to watch a movie." He pats the open spot right next to him and she heads over. "With a nice glass of whiskey and my awesome wife." She drops down onto the couch and Dean pulls her over to him. "Hadn't you had enough anyways?"

"Yes," Lizzy answers quickly and emphatically, leaning her weight on him and relaxing into the ability to do so. Dean pulls her in tightly. "I'm done for. I can't take anymore." She laughs small with the truth of her own statement. If she had to go through that for another hour she'd be a heaping pile of exhaustion on the floor by the end. "It was worth it though," she adds in and looks up to him.

"Yeah?"

"Oh definitely," she confirms for him. "It was good for me."

Looking at her for a beat, Dean grins a bit and plants a kiss on her forehead. "Good." He then reaches for her drink and hands it over.

"Thanks." She smiles at him like a lovesick teenager.

"Ah, save the thanks for until…" he reaches for the remote and presses play on the DVD player. "You see what we're watching."

As Dumb and Dumber begins Lizzy lets out a preemptive laugh. She loves this movie.  _Loves_  it. Is obsessed with it. And Dean knows that.

"You know what?" Lizzy grins while once more looking up at him. She holds out her glass and he clinks his with hers. "You're awesome."

* * *

“Fuck!  God, yes!  Fuck!  Dean, shit!”

And then Lizzy lets out a scream, an honest to God scream, as her orgasm slams into her with the force of a freight train. 

And Dean watches on with a wide smile, always awed by her like this.  She’s wide open, baring not just her body but her entire being to him.  That and she just plain looked beautiful.  The very early sun shining through the window and lighting her skin up with a golden glow, her hair wild from sleep  and her face natural and unpainted… this was his favorite version of his Lizzy.

Every muscle in her body hard and tensed, she grabs onto the sheets with one hand and Dean’s wrist with the other.  She shoves his fingers away from her, not able to take the well versed and too talented sensation of them anymore.  It was too much.

“Oh my fucking God,” she pants out as she just begins to come down, her body still squirming with everything. 

“Three,” Dean shares with her his shit eating grin while she’s still blissed out.  Staying put in his place, kneeling between her open legs, he runs his palms over her bent up knees and down her thighs as he enjoys the show.

“Jesus,” Lizzy sighs, a hand over her eyes while she giggles a little.  “Three times before eight a.m.?”

"Mmhmm," Dean answers back as he leans down over her and kisses her slowly once. "I owe you for yesterday, don't I?"

"No, you idiot," she laughs a little. "You never owe someone for them getting you a birthday present."

"Yeah but I said I was going to give you a good ending to that day once it hit midnight but we passed out on the couch instead," Dean reminds her. They'd been so exhausted that they didn't make it to Dean's promised deadline.

"So what?"

"So maybe I still wanted to give back a little."

Lizzy glances to the clock on the night stand. "Well, if you don't finish paying me back soon then you're gonna be late for work."

"I don't wanna go to work," he whines a bit before burying his face in her neck, his lips traveling across her skin.

"Nobody ever wants to go to work," Lizzy assures him, eyes closing. "But that's part of a normal life."

"Normal blows," he barely gets out while his mouth is still against her skin.

"Yeah, but we're normal," Lizzy points out to him. Dean lifts his head to look at her. "And ain't that just something?"

"It's something alright," Dean agrees and kisses her once more. "Can't we just stay in bed all day, call out sick or something?"

"And pay our bills with what? You can't pay rent in sex, Dean. That's just prostitution."

"Ah, fine. I'm getting up." He starts to leave the bed. "Oh, and I'll run to the kennel and grab the pooch before I head into the garage."

"Yes!" Lizzy lights right up. "Oh, I missed him!"

"It was one day!" Dean points out with annoyance as he tosses on clothes.

"Oh and you  _didn't_  miss the fur-ball?"

She stares at him with an eyebrow arched, knowing he certainly did.

He decides not to answer.

"I'll be right back," he grumbles his way out the room to pick up their dog.

"You love him!" Lizzy playfully shouts back from in bed.

"He's just an animal!" Dean can be heard yelling back as he reaches the bottom of the foyer stairway.

"An animal that you love!"

"Shut up!"

And the front door slams shut.

"Fucking knew it," Lizzy laughs as she lays back in bed, staying put to enjoy the quiet calm of the extremely gratifying morning for just a few minutes more before starting her own day.

* * *

 


	40. February 14th

* * *

"Shit," Lizzy can hear Dean swear from the living room.

"What's wrong?" she asks him, hearing the worry in his voice from across the hall as she puts on the necklace that goes perfectly with her red top.

"My picture's gone."

Scrunching up her face as she knows she's caught, Lizzy says a quick 'fuck' under her breath.

"What picture?" she tries to sound unknowing as she rushes to finish getting dressed.

"Fuck," Dean now panics a bit and Lizzy knows she has to go into damage control pretty fast now. She grabs her purse and heels and runs to him in the living room.

"Baby, what's going on?"

He has his wallet in his hand, opened up as he dumps the few items in it out onto the coffee table.

"My picture," he tells her, rifling through the few papers that had been inside the wallet. "I don't know what happened but it's gone."

"Yeah…" Lizzy nods and fesses up as she doesn't have the heart to let him freak out like this. "I know."

"What!?" he looks up at her confused.

"You're talking about the picture of you and your mother you keep in there."

"You knew about that?" Dean questions with surprise. No one knew he had that. Only Sam knew.

"I didn't…. until recently," she admits. "I was going to steal that note I wrote you when we first met and do something with it for Valentine's Day. Like frame it or something. I know, kinda corny…"

"Ok…" he wonders where she's going with this.

Lizzy then reaches down the side of the couch and pulls out a red paper wrapped rectangular package she had hidden there. "But instead I found something better."

Dean watches as she holds out the gift to him, Mary's charm bracelet jangling a bit from her wrist as she does.

He takes the package and looks at her funny.

"I wasn't gonna give it to you until later but I also didn't expect you to notice the picture was missing before now," she explains before smiling wide. "Happy Valentine's Day, baby."

Curiously, Dean rips open the paper. Inside he finds a framed copy of the picture that's always with him. It looks new though, no wrinkles, rips along the edges, and the color is no longer faded out. It looks perfect.

"I restored it for you," she tells him, taking the original out of the purse in her hand and giving it back over. "It's seen better days and even though I think you should still keep it in your wallet… I wanted you to have a good copy here, in our home."

Speechless. She's the only one who can get him here but he's speechless. "That's…" he sighs with a smile, looking at the image of his mother, the woman he misses so much every damn day of his life. He runs his finger over the glass, above her beautiful face, with painful longing. "L… that's like… the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

She smiles wide. "Family is everything. We can't let ourselves lose anything of the people we've loved and lost. And I already know where to put it."

She pulls his arm to the wall in their living room that she's previous hung framed pictures of her family. She had the childhood picture of her and Lou waiting for the school bus on the first day of school that she once gave Sam there, along with the picture of her parents Dean stole in their trip to her past, a picture of Jo and Ellen she took out front of the Roadhouse, one of her and Bobby from her training days, one of front-toothless Lizzy sitting in her grandmother Shirley's lap, one of John sitting on the hood of the Impala with an eight year old Dean by his side and a four year old Sammy in his lap that she found in John's journal, and the one of Dean and Sam laughing on the hood of the Impala that she gave him for Christmas.

Taking the frame from him she hangs it on the lone nail in the middle of them all that she put up when he was at work earlier, completing the collage of frames. She steps back to stand next to Dean and he brings an arm around her shoulders.

"Perfect," Lizzy grins as she looks at her handy work.

"It is," Dean agrees, not able to take his eyes off of the picture. His mother looks young, bright, and just perfect in that image. She's exactly the image he remembers of her and it's the one he has burned in his mind. "She always looks happy in that picture."

"She was happy," Lizzy tells him with certainty as she brings her arms around his middle and stands by his side looking up at him. "She was with you."

And the face Dean makes at that is almost bordering heartbroken.

"And look at that little face. You were so cute," Lizzy points out. The young, three year old boy in the picture also looks absolutely pain free, like life was just too easy and filled with happiness. His bleach blond hair is on the long side, something Lizzy's never really seen from him, and his big eyes are lit right up with his smile. Lizzy grabs Dean's chin and shakes. "What the hell happened?"

Dean huffs a laugh. "Life happened. And I got punched in it too many times since then."

Lizzy laughs at that. "Nah, you're still cute. And you're even cuter when you're taking me to dinner." She presses up and kisses him on the cheek.

Dean looks down at her, ducking his head once to kiss her on the lips. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

"And now I feel like an ass," he says to her, backing away. "Because I didn't get you anything."

"You didn't have to get me anything," she assures.

"I know," Dean answers, knowing it's true. "But I just wish I had known that you got me such an awesome gift."

"That's not what it's about," Lizzy shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest. "It's not about being forced to do something nice. I just had this idea and I wanted to do it because I love you. That's it. Plus, we aren't exactly the gift giving types usually anyways."

Dean nods and walks into the bedroom while saying to her, "I'm glad you see it that way."

"Now can we get going?" Lizzy asks while following him. "I'm fucking starving."

"Sure," Dean nods as he reaches under their bed. When he stands up he's holding a red box with a pink bow on it. He walks into the hallway where she's waiting for him. "After you open this."

When Lizzy sees it a slow smile creeps across her face. "Thought you didn't get me anything."

"Eh, I lied," he says with a grin and walks over to her. He holds out the box for her to take.

Her big toothy grin stares up at him while she takes the box. "Shit, you're like most husbands now, huh? Guilted into buying me things for fake holidays?"

"We're already doing dinner like regular jackasses so I figured whatever," Dean nearly grumbles, almost hating how normal they're being right now… almost.

Lizzy puts her purse and heels on the floor and opens the box. Getting past the pink colored tissue paper she has to laugh when she sees the gift.

"This isn't for me, you jerk!" she laughs loudly when she sees the skimpy, red lace lingerie inside. "This is for you!"

"No way," he jokes along with her. "That's for you. Once you put that on, trust me… what I do to you after that will be the gift."

"Oh really?" she smiles with excitement, placing the box on a small table in the hall and bringing her arms around his neck.

"Definitely," he says, kissing her with promise. "Believe me when I say this gift is for you."

"And you too, be honest."

"Ok, a little bit me too," Dean admits, kissing her once again. "You know, we could just stay here. I can have you for dinner instead."

She grins and kisses him one more time. "Nice try," she winks and backs away. "But I need to eat. Fuel up for a long night."

"Well I can't argue with that one, can I?"

"Nope," Lizzy grins wide. "Come on, Casanova! Let's go!"

And forgetting that her dog's original name is Casanova, he comes running to her instantly, tail wagging with excitement.

"Shit," she complains with a grin, petting Cass on the head. "I  _so_  said the wrong thing."

"Yeah you did," Dean glees with her mistake. "Now you have walk him."

"Nothing like a dog walk in heels, right?" she laughs a bit, heading down the stairs and grabbing his leash and her coat. "I'll be back."

"Nah, I'll come with you," Dean offers, following her down the stairs and putting his leather jacket on.

"You don't have to."

"I want to," he smiles, grabbing the leash from her.

The little family heads out on their Valentine's Day walk.

* * *

 


	41. February 28th

* * *

Dean Winchester doesn't get scared.

He doesn't. With all the shit he's seen in his life, from ghosts to monsters to the Devil himself, nothing can make him experience the sensation of fear at this point in his life.

Except for this.

It's February 28th and he has no idea where his wife is.

She woke up in a moderately low mood. She never smiled once that morning and the little she spoke was spoken in a quiet, depressive tone but then again he didn't expect her to be anything other than sad. Milling around the apartment, clearly aware of his very careful observation of her, she told him around noon that she had to go into the self-defense center for an hour or so. Dean assumed it was to work off her sorrow and anger over her loss and offered to come with her. She refused.

When two hours had gone by since she left, Dean grew worried. He called her but her phone never rang. It was off. Driving to the center to check on her, his worry doubled when her Mustang wasn't in the lot. He called her again but just like before it went straight to voicemail.

As he drives over to the one place he's more than sure she's at, he berates himself internally for letting her go off on her own today. He knew it was a bad idea to let he leave without him but he let her go anyways, thinking she just needed a little space. Stupid, stupid Dean.

Turning into the cemetery Dean steers the car to the back corner. He can see Lizzy sitting Indian style on the green grass just to the side of Jane and Brian's headstone. Her back is hunched and he watches as she brings a hand up to wipe her eyes.

Parking the Impala behind the Mustang, he quickly gets out and starts walking to her, just so happy to know where she is this year. He was terrified during the first anniversary of Lou's death when she disappeared on her own and he had no idea where to. It took a few hours of logical guessing and when he did catch up with her she was already dangerously drunk and highly miserable. He refuses to think of how much more she would have drank had he and Sam not found her. He told himself that day that he'd never let her go through this alone again.

Hearing him get closer, Lizzy sighs. She knew he'd find her. He always does. And after having a few hours on her own to mourn she welcomes the chance to have him near again, to let him comfort her however he can. Dean's gotten pretty damn good at that over time. He's had to.

Lifting the bottle of Jack Daniels in her lap and taking a huge swig, she greets him by holding the bottle over her head in offer.

Dean takes it, chugs a solid gulp down, and lowers down to the grass at her side. He sits with his upper arm against hers, his knees bent and elbows propped up on them.

"Good to see the bottle's still so full," he comments, swishing the liquid in the glass a bit as he does. She made it about a third of the way through. It's enough to get her good and toasty but not so much that he can't manage her. She's not to her angry drunk level.

Without answering, Lizzy drops her cheek onto his shoulder. He brings an arm around her and she looks up at him with red, watery eyes.

"I know," Dean says to her simply, already understanding everything she might be about to say to him, before pressing his lips to her forehead.

"It doesn't stop, you know," she cryptically informs him.

"What doesn't?"

"The loss. The pain. It just… won't ever go away." Lizzy presses her face into his jacket and lets her tears soak into the fabric. "I hope you're prepared for that… because I wasn't. I'm still not."

Dean sighs and drops his head onto the top of hers.

"I'm not either but thanks for the heads up." Sam still is the first thing he thinks of when the day starts and he falls asleep to the thought of him every single night. It's constant and tiring… and horrible. If he couldn't understand Lizzy's loss of Lou before he sure can now. Granted the extra and intense stab of just  _where_ Sam is makes it even worse but who's keeping score, right?

"I still go to call her sometimes," she admits. "When something fucked up happens or when I just plain want to tell her something stupid I open up my contacts, pull up her number… and then it's like I suddenly remember before I press send. Last minute I always remember that if I call her… she'll never answer. She'll never just burst out with 'what's up, slut?' or just start talking without even saying hello because she knows it's me. God damn it, I miss that."

Just simply nodding his head, Dean keeps quiet.

"Before you got up I tried to call Sam this morning," she confesses as she cries a little harder with the mention of Sam's name. Dean looks down at her when she brings up his brother and she looks right back up to him. "I just wanted to talk to him. He always made me feel so much better on Lou's anniversaries. Especially the last one. I just needed him so much. The line rang twice before I realized my massive fuck up. I started crying and I let it go to voicemail. Then I heard it. 'This is Sam's cell phone. Leave me a message.'"

Dean brings up the bottle once more to take another hardy swig. He needs it. "We gotta stop charging that thing up."

"I don't know about that," Lizzy says to him, not ready to let yet another piece of Sam go. "It was kinda good to hear his voice." She sighs after her comment. "I sound so pathetic."

"No you don't," Dean promises her, his arm wrapping tighter around her frame.

"It's ok, I know that I do," Lizzy returns with.

"Well if you're pathetic then I must just be completely fucking pitiful."

Snapping her focus up to him with surprise, she gives him a questioning look.

"The other day when you weren't home… I was doing some research…"

"Dean," Lizzy says in a disappointed voice. After having discovered that they both had been doing research on a way to get Sam out of the Cage they both came to the decision that it was a bad idea. Opening that door was far too risky and they both know it. No matter how badly they want to help Sam they both agreed to not do anything about it. Just as Sam wanted.

"I know, I'm sorry… but you know I can't just leave it alone. I'll never do anything stupid but I can't live my life unless I know I'm doing everything I can to get him safely out."

"You make me so fucking nervous," Lizzy says in a shaky tone. She gets very frightened by his determination and willingness to do  _anything_  for his brother.

"I'm not gonna be stupid," Dean promised to her. "And I'm not throwing myself on the fire, ok? I wouldn't do that to you."

"Good," she quietly answers, not at all able to believe him.

"I had found something," Dean continues on with his story. "Sam had this theory years ago that there had to be a way to make a demon immobile aside from a devil's trap. There had to be something portable, something quick that you could keep on you and pull out whenever and wherever. I was reading through that old, demonology book you got from Bobby and there was a quick mention that someone had figured out a possible way to make it happen… it didn't work in the end but it was something, you know? He would have loved to know this and I got all, I don't, excited that he was right and I wanted to tell him… so I yelled to him."

"What do you mean?"

"I yelled out his name as if he was in the other room… because he's always been in the other room if I couldn't see him. I just wanted to show him what I found. But then the house stayed so quiet. I should have heard him huff and puff because I asked to come check something out. Normally he'd complain and then lumber his huge self into the room and ask me what's up." He pauses to compose himself and stop his own tears from coming. "He didn't. It sucked."

Lizzy reaches out to grab his hand in hers. She kisses the back of it sweetly as she can completely understand him. And she wishes he never had to find out just how bad it is lose a sibling you're so close to. She'd never want this for him.

"I still talk to her," Lizzy continues to fess up. "Cass told me she couldn't hear me so I know how one-sided it is when I do it… but I still do it. I have to. Every time something has ever gone wrong in my life I would talk to Louie about it. It's the only way I've ever known to handle things. We would talk everything out and I always walked away feeling so much better and with a feeling of some kind of resolution. Hell, she's the only reason I didn't hunt you down and kill you myself when you ditched me years ago during your hell bound year. She talked me down from it, saying you didn't deserve the time wasted on killing you."

"Thank God."

"Thank God…" Lizzy echoes back, the saying not as comfortable to use for her in the past couple years. "I just… I love her so damn much. Dean, I love her. And she died because I'm an ass and I will never get over that. I can never forgive myself for doing what I did to her. She should be alive."

"And she would want you to get past this," Dean reminds her for the millionth time. Lou wouldn't want her sister to be so upset and ruin her life with guilt like this.

"Baby, I can't," she says, a new wave tears trailing down her cheeks. "I don't know how… and I deserve the guilt. I do."

"Hey, look at me," Dean says, some irritation in the background of his words. She looks at him with misty eyes. "You couldn't have known what was gonna happen that night, Lizzy. You didn't know. This is  _not_  on you."

Shaking her head no and squeezing her eyes shut, she refused to believe him.

"It's not."

Covering a hand over her eyes while hunching her back some more, she cries even harder. She just can't find it in her to believe that as true. She pissed off that vampire. Lou got turned minutes later. It's her fault.

"I don't care if it takes me the rest of our lives… I'm gonna get you to believe that. Lizzy, Lou's death is not your fault. It's the job. It's bad luck. It's wrong place at the wrong time. It's  _not your fault_."

"No," she simply refuses through a sob and Dean gets angry with her inability to accept what he tells her.

"Yes," he rebuts, pulling her hand away from her face and grabbing her attention as he holds her face to him. "You didn't do this. Hunting killed Lou. You didn't. This isn't your fault. Lizzy… have I ever,  _ever_  lied to you?"

"No."

"Even when I know it hurts you to tell the truth?"

"You wouldn't lie to me," she sobs out.

"L, this isn't your fault," he repeats again. "Her death isn't on you. It's not your fault."

Launching off of the grass, Lizzy collides with Dean hard as her arms wrap around his neck. She clutches to him so strongly it hurt but he says nothing. Dean just pulls her into himself, an arm around her back and a hand pressing to the back of her head as she completely breaks.

She can't form words as her body won't let her. Her voice is choked, she's shaking, and the inability to have her sister back just devastates her to a hopeless, desperate place. And it's only been three years so far. She always thought it'd get better over time, that the loss would be easier to handle. But no, it hasn't gone that way at all. Instead she feels worse every anniversary. She misses Lou this year more than she did the last and she never thought it was possible to miss Lou more than she did the year before. It just won't stop. Why is their bond this strong? Why is it so different from everyone else's familial bonds that she's can't overcome this?

Grabbing hard onto the heavy leather collar at the back of his neck, Lizzy takes a deep breath in attempt to try and calm herself down. Her fingertips absorb the familiar feel of the worn, old leather of John's jacket, something Dean's worn nearly constantly since they'd met. Once he went to hell at the end of his deal Sam had given her this jacket, told her to hold on to it for Dean as he undoubtedly assumed that he would get his brother out and he'd want it back. To her this one piece of clothing became a symbol of comfort and love, something she could run to when the pain of no longer having him got far too strong. Now that he's back it still holds that same warmth for her but now when she ran to it for sanctuary he was inside of it. He could make its arm hold her again and the smell of him in it is strong, no longer fading slowly with his absence.

Once more, on Lou's anniversary she's neglected to remember what she still has. Sadly last year's anniversary she still had  _two_  people with her, by her side supporting her. Sam can't help her through this one, not this time… nor any other time in the future. But she knows she has Dean. She still has Dean. He will do his damnedest to stay right there too.

"I love you," she sighs out as her sobs begins to slow and calm as she continues to hug him hard. "And you can never leave me. Never."

"Not going anywhere, L," Dean tells her, believing it.

"You can't," she keeps telling him. "You're all I have left."

Dean smiles slightly. "In case you haven't noticed, you're pretty much all I have too."

"So you can't leave me," she repeats. "I need you more than you know."

With a little tug in his chest Dean's smile goes from slight to full. He's still needed. That's just too damn good to hear.

He sighs as he pushes her lightly away from him to gage her headspace now that she's managed to stop crying.

"What do you say we go home?"

"Ok," Lizzy says in return.

Dean helps her up before following suit. "I'll drive. We can get the Mustang tomorrow before your shift."

"Alright," Lizzy nods before looking back at the grass besides Jane and Brian Becker's plots. "Louie, watch her for me."

Dean once more grins something small at Lizzy, knowing how much Lou loved her car. He grabs her hand and leads her to the Impala, ready to take her home and be able to watch over her from their one place of safety.

* * *

"Yeah?" Bobby asks plainly into the receiver after he picks up his house phone two rings in.

"I miss you."

"Liz?" Bobby questions quickly, already knowing it's her.

"It's been months since we've seen you," Lizzy says. "Months, Bobby. I don't like it."

"Well, that's sweet and all but you're just saying that because of what day it is." Bobby picks up his half-full bourbon bottle and pours himself another glass before sitting down at the kitchen table.

"Ok… so maybe I'm checking up on you and maybe I might be a bit on the sentimental side and in need hearing from my family today. Sure," she quickly admits. "But it made me realize how long I've gone since I've seen you."

"I'm just a phone call away…"

"But it isn't the same," she cuts him off. "I've done a lot of thinking and remembering today… and so many of my biggest memories I have of hunting with Lou have everything to do with you and being at your house."

"Of course. I trained you." He takes a sip of booze, knowing he's trying to play off the depth of his relationship with these two girls in order to try and escape speaking emotionally. He hates that shit.

"And in that time you became our family," Lizzy tells him. "You like to brush it off and keep it deep and buried but Lou and I are yours, Bobby. You took us in when we lost our parents and you were always so good to us. Always, from the second I told you we wanted into the life."

"Had to make sure you didn't get yourselves killed. That blood woulda been on my hands."

"But you didn't have to cook us dinners," Lizzy further explains herself. "You didn't have to house us and feed us and watch over our progress for months on end. You didn't have to go out and rent both Ghostbusters movies and make soup for me when I got the flu on the road and you demanded we take a break and stay with you while I got better. And you certainly didn't have to track down Lou's brother and try to talk some sense into him after he cut her off for disappearing and becoming a hunter. You always went above and beyond. You love me and you love Lou too, just like we grew to love you right back."

Bobby doesn't respond as he stares into his glass. What does one even say to that anyways?

"How are you today?"

"Better question is how are you, Liz?" He's of course way more concerned about her than himself.

"And I'll tell you once you answer my question first."

Frustrated sigh, Bobby just sits back in his kitchen chair, props his feet on the table, and takes a sip of his cheap whiskey. "Shitty."

"Well, same here," Lizzy says truthfully.

"I figured as much. You didn't pull the disappearing act on Dean did ya'?"

"You know I did."

"Jesus."

"But he knew where I was," she quickly assures. "I just went to her grave. He found me there pretty quickly."

"Good, because I ain't losing another kid," Bobby answers gruffly, not really even recognizing that he'd referred to them as his kids until after it's said.

"Take it easy,  _dad_ ," Lizzy patronizes right back. "I barely drank a drop."

"What's considered a drop?"

"The amount it takes to get normal people drunk," she quickly answers and moves on. "I just wanted to talk to her…."

_Bobby, check this out…._

Bobby instantly shoots an angry look at his interrupter as he walks into the kitchen, open dusty book in his hand. He sits up tall, putting his feet on the floor and holding his index finger to his lips to tell Sam to shut the fuck up.

"Who's that?" Lizzy asks and Bobby clenches his jaw with fear. She can't find out Sam's there. She can't find out Sam's anywhere but locked up in that Cage if she and Dean are going to stay out of hunting.

"Oh, just an old hunting buddy of Rufus'," he immediately lies. "Idjit sent him here to do some research. I don't even know the guy."

"Well, if Rufus trusts him he's gotta be kosher."

She's buying it! "You say that like I should trust that old ass."

"Bobby, give it up already! Rufus is a friend…"

"Yeah ,yeah. Don't remind me," Bobby jests in his grumpy tone.

"Well, I'll let you get going but heads up, I think we're gonna take a road trip," she warns him. "We've been cooped up too long and need to get out. I was thinking about checking out Sioux Falls on the way… you ever heard of it?"

"Might have," he plays along. "Just give me a day's heads up to make sure I'm here."

"Will do," Lizzy says, the smile obvious on her lips. "I know you hate mushy stuff but I can't wait to see you. It feels like coming home when I come to your place."

"It'll be good to see you too, kid." Bobby smiles a little himself.

"Alright, I'll let you get back to it. I love you, Bobby."

"You too, Liz."

And he hangs up the phone.

"How's she doing?" Sam asks quite lightly when Bobby turns to face him.

"Not so great considering the day."

Sam just stares at him with a blank look of curiosity. "What happened?"

"Seriously?" Bobby questions Sam with pure shock. Bobby had assumed Sam stopped by just to be with the only family he has that knows he's alive on a day like this. Or at least that's what he figured Sam would do if he couldn't go see Lizzy. With his reaction, maybe Bobby was wrong about Sam this time.

Sam shakes his head as he doesn't put it together.

"Lou died three years ago today," Bobby says with pure annoyance at Sam's unthinkable forgetfulness.

"Oh, right," Sam says when it clicks, his memories still there. He then points to an open page of the large lore book in his hands. "So, uh, this says that a chupacabra can be taken down with silver… but didn't dad once say something about silver not working on them?"

Bobby can't speak to him for a moment. He knows the answer but the nonchalance and dismissive attitude Sam takes on the day just floors him to a point that he's shocked.

"Ah, so… no?" Sam says when he grows impatient.

"The fuck is wrong with you, boy!?" Bobby worries aloud with fire in his tone.

"What do you mean?" Sam asks, lost as to why he's receiving such suspicion.

"Lou died on this day. You should be upset… or at least sad. Sam, you loved that girl, and I ain't even sure love is a good enough word. What is  _wrong_  with you?"

"It was a long time ago," he tries to excuse with a shrug, starting to understand his misstep.

"So what?" Bobby angrily returns. "Love loss don't just get better over time. It gets worse. You should be hurting like a bitch."

"Bobby, moping around over her loss won't bring her back. It's been three years. I can't just spend my life obsessed with someone who isn't here anymore. I've learned to move on. I mean, yeah, it still hurts but I can manage it now."

"Yeah, you can sure manage it. So well that you forgot all together!" Bobby starts to get upset. "Lou was a damn good girl! She loved you with everything she had, you stupid ass! She fucking told me."

"She told you?" Sam asks, it being his turn to be surprised. He remembers Lou being quieter than that. She wasn't the emotional confessor that Lizzy is. She could contain it.

"Yeah she did," Bobby spits right back, remembering how she had gotten drunk with Lizzy one night while in town. They caught a cab back to his place and after Lizzy passed out Lou began drunk talking. She told him how she'd been feeling about Sam and how she eventually came to realize she actually did love him. She was  _really_  drunk. Bobby had to help her to bed that night. "And she sure deserves a whole fucking lot more from you than forgetting about her. I thought you were a better man than this, Sam."

"Bobby, take it easy…"

"I don't know what happened to you… but something just ain't right in your melon. This ain't you. That cage took a part of you…"

"Trust me, Bobby. I'm fine," Sam tries to dismiss.

"Yeah well… trust  _me_ , you ain't," Bobby assures him as he picks up his glass and heads out the door, needing some air and some time alone to calm himself. Before leaving he pauses. "Lizzy and Dean'll be here in a few days. I suggest you leave well before then." And he shuts the side door with a slam behind him.

After a walk he'll come back and tell Sam that he needs iron rounds for that chupacabra in Texas.

* * *

 


	42. March 5th

* * *

"Bobby!" Lizzy shouts loudly as she scrambles out of the Impala's passenger side when she sees him opening the side kitchen door of his house. She rushes to him and of course barrels right into him, her arms around his neck.

"Jesus," he complains with a misgiving smile on his face as he stumbles just slightly. "Take it easy. I'm old these days."

"I fucking missed you so much!" she says, feeling a sense of calm and ease wash over her. It feels like when she came home for Christmas after her first semester at college. She was back, in her safe place, with her parents. That same sense is finding her right now and the tension she'd been having lately instantly melts away. She just needed to come home.

"Missed you too," he says to her while looking over her shoulder at Dean as he grabs their bags from the trunk. Now everything is right. His kids are back. And they shockingly look pretty damn good. His worry fades a bit, but not totally. His concern for them will never be fully gone.

Lizzy backs away from the hug, pauses to look at him, and tries to decipher how he is. When she just stares at him he gets a little awkward.

"You know it's impolite to stare," he tells her.

"Just checking," Lizzy grins a little.

"I'm fine."

"Famous last words," she wags a finger at him.

"Hey'a Bobby," Dean greets as he walks up to them. Lizzy backs off so that Bobby can give his son a manly hug hello, complete with gruff couple of pats on the back as is hunter protocol.

"You two are lookin' pretty good," he tells them once he starts walking into the house, Lizzy and Dean following close behind.

"Lookin' quite spry yourself, old man," Dean jokes as he glances around Bobby's house. "Whoa. Guess the maid couldn't make it this week?"

"Already?" Bobby bitches instantly. "You just got here and you're shittin' on my ways already?"

"Well, the place is looking a bit… messy, Bobby," Lizzy says with concern. Normally Bobby's house is a mess. Books everywhere, empty and half-empty whiskey bottles strewn around, dishes in the sink… but it's much worse this time around. It looks like he hasn't cleaned in months and the dust and clutter is built up to a scary place.

"Been busy," he shrugs as he heads for his study.

"With what?" Dean asks quickly, his old habits coming back in an instant once he's in the house.

"Most recently? A chupacabra," Bobby answers while taking a seat in his desk. Dean tags along and takes a seat across from him as Lizzy stays in the kitchen and does what she and Lou always used to do the second they'd get to Bobby's; she starts picking up after him.

"You don't say," Dean says with interest.

"I do."

"Where at?"

"Out in Texas," he answers. "But I got a guy on it already."

"Who?"

He'd love to answer truthfully on this one, tell him Sam's on the case, but of course he can't. He doesn't have it in him to ruin the one good thing Dean has going for him right now. Normalcy.

"A friend of Rufus'," he lies completely. "He left this morning to go hunt the damn thing down after researching for a few days."

"Well I hope he's good," Dean comments as he helps himself to the whiskey bottle on the desk. He stands up to grab a glass in the kitchen but not before topping off Bobby's own glass. "Those little bitches can be real bitches."

"No worries," Bobby answers. "This guy is good. Real good." He looks into his refilled glass before taking a sip to mutter to himself, "Scary good."

After he sets his glass down, he watches Dean and Lizzy from his desk, seeing their usual ease with each other is even easier than before. The time alone has done them well.

"Seriously? You're here for five seconds and you're cleaning?" Dean questions her as he walks into the room where Lizzy is gathering up used dishes and dropping them into the sink.

"I'm just so used to cleaning up after you these days that I must have gone into autopilot."

"Smart ass," Dean comments as he reaches into the cupboard for two glasses. "Come on, put the chores down for now and be a good guest, huh?" He holds up the whiskey bottle and shakes it, winking at her. "Been a long ride. Time to get a little drunk."

Lizzy narrows her eyes at him with a sigh before dropping her current handful of dishes into the sink. "Fine."

"That's my girl," he cheers before heading back into the study. He sits back down in his chair and pours out two more glasses.

"You two look like things are going good."

"Ah, yeah, you know… life's pretty good. You're right," Dean tells him as he caps the whiskey bottle, knowing Bobby's not talking about how they are handling the loss of Sam or adjusting to the real world. He's asking about the two of them and their relationship. "Better than I would've thought, actually."

"Yeah. I mean, we've had time to just kinda be… a married couple," Lizzy adds as she sits down next to Dean.

"It's fucking weird," Dean adds in as he hands her a glass.

"But nice," Lizzy counters, a small grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Yes, it's nice," Dean says, stressing his words as he smirks right back.

"Well sorry I asked," Bobby complains. "You two are just about Bridges of Madison County."

"Shut up," Dean and Lizzy answer at the same time with embarrassment in their voice.

Looking at their very small group in the study, Lizzy sighs. As much as it feels great to be there, it just doesn't feel right. It's completely incomplete. She holds up her glass to the group.

"To Sam-I-Am and Louie," she says, the names still painful on her tongue.

Conflicted, Bobby plays along, clinking his glass with her and Dean before downing the whole damn thing in one go. He's cheers-ing to a man that's walking around this world as they speak. This was going to be harder than he thought.

* * *

"So you're both working stiffs these days," Bobby sums up what Lizzy tells him as they sit in the living room, the TV on but the volume is so low no one can hear it. They all ended up drinking into the night and catching up on each other's lives.

"Pretty much. Who woulda thought, huh?" Lizzy shares a drunken smile with her father figure as she sits on one end of the couch and looks at him from across the room.

"Not this guy," Bobby huffs as he slouches a little lower into his favorite chair, resting his glass on his stomach lazily as his elbow are on either arm. "Though I'm proud of you both."

"For getting regular jobs?" Lizzy giggles a bit at the ridiculous thing to be proud of while she absently rubs along Dean's shin as he lies across the couch with his legs in her lap.

"Hell yeah for getting regular jobs," he assures to her. "And for getting out. For being safe and giving your lives a real chance. I have never,  _never_  seen a hunter leave the life but you and Dean… you did it. You got it right. Proud ain't good enough, hon."

Smiling with a dumb, cloudy look, Lizzy feels good about that. "You hear that, baby? We made the old man proud…"

When she looks over to Dean he's passed out cold on the couch, his glass of whiskey resting on his chest as he still grips it with one hand.

"Guess I'll tell him tomorrow," Lizzy laughs as she reaches over to take the glass from him so he doesn't spill it. She then dumps what he didn't finish into her own glass before putting the now empty one on the side table. She'll definitely drink it. Bobby got a few bottles of Jameson just because he knew she was coming. Lizzy doesn't waste Jameson, ever.

"Never seen the guy pass out quite like that," Bobby laughs just slightly.

"Me neither until very recently. He can actually sleep these days which is a fucking miracle if you ask me," she informs him. "The nightmares are finally starting to lessen. And he can get more than four hours at a time too." Lizzy smiles over to her husband's sleeping, resting face. "He's not drinking massive amounts, his appetite is back to scary in a gluttonous way… he's doing ok now. Still has his bad days here and there and that's to be expected but he's getting by."

"And you?"

She looks to him with a flash of worry across her face before she masks it. "I'm alright. Getting better now that he is. I worry less about him so that's good."

"Ok, let's try this again… Liz, how are  _you_  doing?"

Peering into her glass in her lap she nods her head just slightly. "Better than when it happened. But not great. I keep trying to be ok but then… I…" she sighs with frustration. "I need more time. And I can't bottle up how I feel. More time I think will help. I just miss him too much still and always think about where he is..."

"I understand," Bobby tries to tell her. "And we all let our minds wander."

"I know, Bobby," she grins something sad to him. "But in the meantime I put on a brave face and try to live my life."

"Just like the rest of us."

"Exactly," she smiles something much calmer this time.

"So what is living like these days? I'm curious what the life of Elizabeth Winchester; Regular Girl looks like."

"Regular, huh?" she laughs a bit at his word choice. "It's not bad. I wake up in a comfortable bed, in my home, next to my guy. And I don't have to look over my shoulder every second. There really isn't a ton more I could ask for at this point in my life."

"No you can't." Bobby raises his glass to that sentiment and takes a sip, knowing he's already drunk enough as it is.

"Nope. I get to go to work and make an honest living. I cook dinner and clean the house and pay bills… and now and then get bored outta my freakin' skull."

"It's got to be a tough adjustment."

"So tough," she confirms and takes a gulp of her drink. "We haven't exactly gotten a hundred percent out though."

And this is where he glares at her.

"We did a quick salt and burn up in New Hampshire a few months back."

And still Bobby just looks at her, making her uncomfortable with his judging stare.

"Stop looking at me like that!" she warns him strongly.

"You were supposed to get all the way out." He wants that more than anything else. Offer Bobby one wish in life and it would most certainly be that.

"And I'm trying… but Dean and I now know we need to be eased out. Over time. Plus, dude, it was just a little kid ghost that needed to be put to rest. The poor thing was on a terrified loop of running away from his murderer and trying to find his mother. We  _had_  to help him."

"Hm," Bobby grunts. "Alright. Sounds harmless enough."

"It was."

"And I know how you get when kids are involved."

"You know me so well." She grins a little lopsided with the booze. She takes a deep breath and brings something quite personal up, the liquor lubricating her mind enough to speak it. "You know, on the hunt… Dean brought up us having kids."

If Bobby's eyes could get any wider they would be cartoon worthy.

"He did what!?"

"You heard me."

"Seriously?  _He's_  the one who brought it up first?"

"Could have knocked me over with a light breeze, I swear."

"What'd he say?" Bobby inquires, needing to know. His girls always could get him gossiping like a middle-aged woman in a hair salon in no time with how open and honest they were. They got him going and he fell right in line with it. As closed off as he always is was with Sam and Dean, he could be turned the opposite quite easily with Lizzy and Lou.

"Well, we had summoned the little guy to talk to him so we could figure out where he was buried and that's kinda where it started." She takes another gulp of whiskey and has to wonder if she should be telling Bobby all this. Since she has no one close enough to talk like this with beside Dean maybe she should. "He saw me handle Owen well. Later he said he thought I was always at my best when I'm around kids."

"He's right."

"Yeah, and we've talked about kids before… like, before Sam…" She stops herself and just shakes her head, not wanting to finish her statement. "But not since then. I mean, we both know we want a family but it was never an actual, viable possibility until now."

"You think you two will make it happen?" Bobby asks them, unable to hide his hopeful tone.

Lizzy smiles over to him. "You sound like you're all for the idea there, Bobby."

"I'm for anything that will make my Liz a happy person in life."

The honesty makes her melt a little.

"Yes, I think we will make it happen… just not yet." She glances over to Dean. "I know how good a father Dean'll be. He'll be beyond awesome but only after he's had time to process his loss. And the same goes for me." Looking back to Bobby she sighs. "I'm not ready yet. I'm still a mess. And I drink too much."

"You both do that!"

"No shit," she huff a laugh. "But… we did kinda make an agreement."

"I'm listening." Bobby sits up a little taller.

"I suggested that we take an entire year to recover. We have a deadline now to get our acts together and be the good people we need to be before… trying."

"Trying?"

"Yes," she smiles something genuine and bright for the first time all night. "If by May we're ok and on track we're gonna start trying."

Bobby sits with the news, processing possibly the best thing he's heard in years.

"Shit, you think it's a bad idea?" Lizzy worries when Bobby doesn't respond for a while and his face doesn't give anything away. She doesn't have anyone who knows her story well enough that she can talk this over with besides him. Bobby's the only person left who can honestly give a solid opinion that matters on the issue.

"No, ah," Bobby slowly starts. "I just really… I'm rooting for you two. I think this is a good thing."

"Yeah?" she smiles wide once more.

"Definitely," he confirms strongly. "Liz, I just want you two happy and at your best. You're both good, loving, caring people and you already put family first. I think if you  _didn't_ have kids it'd be a tragedy. You were both made for that."

Biting her lip through her unstoppable smile, Bobby knows he made her happy. And he knows he confirmed her plan as a very good one and that's exactly what she had needed.

"Thanks, Bobby," she says to him.

He waves her off immediately.

"So what do you want to go by?" she shoots him a devilish grin as she takes down another hefty gulp from her still large drink.

"What're you talkin' about?"

"What do you want to go by?" she repeats, holding back a laugh. "Grampa, Gramps, Pops… maybe just Old Man Singer?"

She laughs but he doesn't.

"Oh come on, Bobby. I was joking!" she laughs loudly as he looks hurt at first.

"I know you were," he forces a smile to play it off but it doesn't work.

"Hey, what's the deal over there?" she questions with his seriousness.

"Nothing."

Something. It may have been an assumption on her part, but Lizzy is telling him outright that he'd be a grandfather. After never having kids with his wife before she passed he never thought he'd be ask that question. What do you want your grandkids to call you? What will they yell when they come to visit and are happy to see you? What will the kids of your unofficially adopted children write on the back of their school drawing they made for you?

"Lair," Lizzy accuses as she points at him. She gets it and her muddled, drunken mind doesn't feel bad for calling him out. "You're getting sappy on me!"

"No I'm not," he angrily denies. "You're just drunk."

"Fuck you, I'm not drunk!" Lizzy just short of shouts in fear of waking Dean. "You're touched! Holy shit, you got emotional over this shit!"

"Way to ruin a fucking moment, Liz," Bobby grumbles with anger as he stands up quickly and downs his drink.

"Aww, don't leave!" she laughs out.

"Goodnight," Bobby says succinctly to her as he drops his glass in the kitchen.

"No! Wait a minute!" she begs as she's about to lose him for the night. "Come back for a second."

"Why?" he asks as he walks back to the living room doorway.

"Grampie," she tells him honestly. "That's what I called my grandfather on my mother's side. He reminds me of you. Gruff, grouchy, a real pain in the ass… and the only soft spot he had was his family that he loved fiercely."

He sighs with an eye roll.

"Shut up and go pass out, you drunk," Bobby says with ire and annoyance, rounding the corner to hide his smile as he mumbles to himself, "Idjit."

He ascends the stairs and Lizzy finds herself content. Clearly she made Bobby happy with what she's very boldly just shared with him. It was worth sharing.

Once he's mulling around to get ready for bed, Lizzy decides to try and wake her Sleeping Beauty.

"Baby?" she calls in a whisper to him, shaking his legs across her lap. He doesn't move. "Dean?" she calls, this time using her voice quietly.

Nothing again.

"Cheese burgers," she tries with a laugh. "Bacon. Tits. Strippers. Beer. More beer. Pie. Cherry pie.  _My_  cherry pie."

Nothing still.

She crawls out from under his legs and climbs on top of him. She drapes her body on top of his and leans in close. "I brought the kimono."

A deep inhale through his nose and he slits his eyes open to look up to her. "Let's go upstairs."

"Bullshit!" she giggles with his antics while he sits up. "You woke up before I said that."

"Maybe," he answers quickly. "So did you bring it?"

"No."

"Liar," he grumbles, pushing her off of him and standing up. "Get upstairs and get naked. You owe me, you fucking cock tease." He keeps walking into the hallway.

"Wow, you really know how to put a girl in the mood."

"You in or what?" he asks, his voice farther away as he heads up the stairs.

"He's lucky he's fucking hot," Lizzy complains of his demeanor as she stands and jogs after him. She's able to overlook a lot of his rougher edges when she just takes one glance at him. Lucky bastard.

* * *

"When you walk. And when you talk. I get the tingle, I want to mingle, that's what I want."

Heavy sigh, Bobby makes his way down the stairs from the second floor of his house. It was sweet of Lizzy to cook breakfast for him. And it was very kind of her to offer to clean the house just like she and Lou always did when they'd visit for a few days. But he forgot about one thing.

"Hey listen baby, turn up the fader, tryin' to make you understand you're on my radar. On my radar. On my radar."

The chores came with a certain type of music blaring loudly through the house. A type he doesn't particularly like… nor normally tolerate.

So he quickly as he can makes his way through his study, stops at in the kitchen to grab a couple beers, and heads out the side door before she can see him. He needs out until she's done.

Once he shuts the kitchen door he blows out a hard breath as Britney Spears' music and the accompanying horrid, tone deaf voice is finally muffled instead of blaring in his ears.

"Annoying as fuck, ain't it?" Dean peers over to him from where he's hunched over the open hood of the Impala. He's dealt with this a few times since they'd been out of hunting. She does this every day she performs a serious cleaning.

"It ain't pretty, that's for sure," Bobby responds as he makes his way over.

"The angels seemed to have forgotten about making her voice match the packaging."

At this Bobby actually huffs an honest laugh. It was a funny observation after all. It would have been easy to give her a voice that didn't sound so terrible.

"And I mean, what the hell, huh?" Dean questions with annoyance as he stands up and takes an offered beer from Bobby. "Zep, Doors, Crosby Still and Nash… and Britney freakin' Spears?"

"Hey, she's got eclectic taste," Bobby brushes aside.

"Yeah, awesome," Dean grumbles with sarcasm dripping from his words as he pops the cap with his ring.

"Well aside from the voice she ain't too bad so I say you still come out smelling like roses with that one."

"Mm," Dean hums and nods while sipping his beer. "When you're right your right." Beside the voice she is pretty awesome.

"Dean, uh… is she ok?" Bobby broaches the subject cautiously. Getting Dean in a talkative place isn't always the easiest task but he needs to know if Lizzy is alright enough to live and breathe on a daily basis.

"Yeah, I mean it isn't great yet," he admits. "She had a rough one on Lou's anniversary just like every year. And she has her moments through the day where she'll get real quiet and shut down for a little bit. Other than that she's been doing good. Shockingly good."

"And you're sure it isn't just some act?" Bobby pries further.

Dean just looks at Bobby for a moment with a little surprise. "What?"

"I'm just wonderin'," he starts as he takes a seat on the closed cooler by the front passenger side tire. "That girl will do anything for you, including ignore herself in order to help you. I'm just nervous that she might not be as good as she's lettin' on."

"You know something I don't here?" Dean asks with a tone of growing anger and suspicion. He lives with Lizzy. He knows her. He'd notice if she was still in a terrible place mentally.

"Look, when you passed out last night we kept talking," Bobby explains himself. "She pretty much told me she ain't exactly ok. It made me concerned and knowing who she is I bet she's been putting on one hell of a show for you… to make sure you're good. You're her priority after all."

"And she's mine," the irritated tone answers back. "L is  _always_  my first priority, you know that."

"I do know that, ok?" Bobby assures with Dean quick anger. "Have you two actually talked about what happened… about Sam?"

Thinking for a second, he realizes that, "No. Not really." They had somewhat touched the subject but Dean always tried his damnedest to end it as soon as he could. It just hurt too much.

"I think you should."

Dean shoots Bobby an uncomfortable and pissed off look.

"I know you don't like that idea but this ain't about you for once," Bobby tells him much more harshly than he'd wanted to. "It's about her. She's a talker and as much as you hate that, you gotta help her. I think that maybe on the long ride home you take the opportunity to fix this. Talk to her."

Knowing he's right, Dean rolls his eyes as he sucks down a large portion of his beer.

"Plus… you better get her head straight soon because that May deadline is closer than it seems."

Snapping his focus back onto the older hunter, Dean sees the smirk on Bobby's face. He winks once and Dean gets it.

"Sounds like someone drank too much last night," Dean assumes.

"Sounds about right," Bobby nods, the hint of a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Great," Dean bitches. "Loose Lipped Lizzy at her best."

"Oh, it's fine," Bobby tries to make light of the fact that he knows about their plans. "And I fully support the idea… as soon as I know Liz is ready for that and her head is where it should be. That's on you, Dean."

"This fatherly bullshit is getting old with you," Dean accusingly points at him but he's slightly joking.

Bobby huffs and gets up from his spot. "Don't get too sick of fatherly bullshit. You're gonna need to master the art of it soon enough if things go your way."

"Alright… enough talking," Dean pushes it all aside. "More fixing. I think I found the rattling."

"Yeah?" Bobby asks as he walks to stand next to Dean at the bumper of the Impala. "What'd you think?"

* * *

"Oh my God, I'm dying," Lizzy groans as she sits back on her side of the booth while holding her stomach. She looks up to the ceiling and declares, "Yet I regret nothing."

"That's good," Dean laughs quietly at her as they finish up their road stop dinner.

"This was so fucking good," she tells him. "Glad you made us stop."

"Hey, any time I have a chance to comeback to Midway Oh Boy, I take it," he tells her, dipping his last onion ring into ketchup before shoving the whole thing into his mouth. "This place is tits."

"Here, here," Lizzy fully agrees as she sits up and looks at the practically empty baskets in front of her. "I gotta stop ordering more food than I can comfortably handle. I always eat all of it, knowing that I'm gonna hurt so bad when I'm done."

"Suck it up, Noonan," Dean brushes off her complaints while grabbing one of the last fried pickles she had left. "You're better than this." He pops the pickle in his mouth and chews. "Being full is just a myth. It's mind over matter."

"Oh is it?" she asks with a smile at his interesting take on the sensation of being full.

"Absolutely," he answers her instantly with a mouthful.

"The amount with which you are full of shit is completely mind-blowing, you know that?"

Dean smirks at her. "I'll prove it."

"How the hell can you do that?"

"Most people would say that, after what I just ate, I should be full, correct?" he asks her, eating her last French fry to help demonstrate.

"Double cheeseburger with bacon, onion rings, cheese puff bites, and half my fried pickles… ah, yeah. I'd say you should be  _well_  past the point of full."

"Ok, good. I should be done, yet…" Dean picks up his paper menu and points to the bottom of the page. "They have pie."

He grins wide at her while Lizzy's jaw drops in shock.

"You're a pig," she tells him while still holding her stomach.

"Nope, just a master at mind over matter."

"You keep telling yourself that," she laughs as she watches him get up to head to the counter.

"You want anything?" he asks her on his way.

"No. I'm dying, remember?"

Dean shakes his head and keeps walking away.

Looking at the war field that is their table, Lizzy pauses on the basket of fried pickles she just had to order.

Sam loved fried pickles.

Usually, he was the healthy eater. His food never came fried, covered in cheese, or drenched in fat. He ate salad, and grilled chicken, and fruit… except for fried pickles. While on the road they ate at a diner that had them and Lizzy, having fallen in love with the food a few years earlier, ordered them right up. Sam of course gave her a disgusted look, one that says 'you're not really going to eat that, are you?', but she made him try one. He ended up eating most of her order.

From there on they always shared an order of fried pickles anywhere they would find them. Nowadays she orders them still but for a different reason. It just plain reminds her of the brother she lost and wants back so badly.

She thinks of him a lot like this, a couple times a day coming across triggers that bring up memories of Sam or how he ended up saving the world… and losing his soul to eternal torture.

"Blueberry," Dean says with pure excitement as he sits back down across from her, plate in hand. "Such a classic. It never gets old."

Picking up a fork to dig in, Dean pauses when he sees that Lizzy's quiet again, her posture small. She does this often. He knows why too.

"You ok?"

Lizzy nods slightly, her smile never reaching her eyes, before looking back down at the table. She never says a word.

Dean drops his fork, folds his hands on the table top, and looks right at her. "What did it this time?"

"Did what?" she questions.

"Made you think of him."

He read her like a book, wide open but only to him.

"Fried pickles," she tells him honestly. "He loves fried pickles. Because I made him try them."

"Yeah," Dean thinks about it. "Yeah, you guys did always buy them wherever we went."

She nods once more and stays quiet.

"You know, you don't have to keep all that inside anymore, L," he tells her. "Not for me. You've done enough for me."

She doesn't respond as she's almost afraid to.

"Talk to me here," he says, knowing how rare a phrase that is for him to even try and utter. "You're never gonna get better if you don't. I know it…. Bobby knows it too."

"I don't even know what to say at this point." She looks down at her hands in her lap.

"Then just go with the first thing you think of."

"I want to share fried pickles with him again," she simply answers. "I want to fight over the last one like we always did." Her voice elevates as she grows sadder. "I want Sam to call me a fatty. I want to call him a dick for saying that. I want hear him say he thinks I'm gonna have a heart attack before I'm thirty." She sniffles as she lets it all out.

Dean gets up from his side of the booth and slides in next to her. He immediately puts his arm around her and she leans into him heavily.

"I didn't know him as long as you, it was only a few years… but I love him, Dean. He was so good to me. He was so good to everyone." She wipes her eyes. "I'm not ok with where he is. And I don't know how to be."

"Then we're on the same team," Dean assures her. He hasn't come to terms with a damn thing about how the whole Apocalypse didn't go down. "But you have to just focus on the good. On what he did and what he gave up to save people."

"I try, I do…"

"But it still hurts like a huge bitch."

"Yes," she answers quickly and closes her eyes.

"L, you're not alone," Dean promises her. "You got me. We're in the same exact boat here. You gotta talk to me."

"I don't want to make it worse for you…"

"Stop that," he calmly halts her where she is. "Stop being so focused on me still. I can handle it. The next time something makes you think of Sam, you tell me all about. It's the only way you're gonna get any better."

"You sure?" Lizzy asks him while looking up. "I think about him a lot."

"Whatever it takes," he assures. "You need to be in a better place. And May ain't  _that_  far away you know."

"No it's not," she sees how right he is. "Thanks."

"Hey, I owe you," Dean just brushes off.

Silently Lizzy reaches across the table and slides his dessert to their side of the booth. "Now, pie… well that'll just always make me think of  _you_."

"Yeah it will," Dean happy returns as he cuts a bite with his fork and eats it.

* * *

 


	43. March 21st

* * *

How he convinced himself that this was a good idea he'll never understand. This is ridiculous.

As the mass plays out in front of him, the pastor speaking of how God loves all of his children equally, Sam really begins to get itchy.

He knows far too much about true religion and what it all actually means. It isn't hopeful or filled with love much like he's being preached to right now. Religion and the beings that have created it are harsh, unfair, and vengeful. It's hard to sit calmly and quietly by when everything he's hearing is complete and utter bullshit but like always Sam does what he has to do for the job.

This whole form of worship is one big unfunny joke to him now. He has no tolerance nor an ounce of patience for any form of organized religion after all he's seen and experienced and he knows for a fact that, to an extent, every one of them are all wrong. Only he and his brother truly know what really is out there. It most definitely isn't the picture these religious leaders make it out to be.

Now he wishes so badly he didn't need to be where he is right now but he has no choice. The pastor of this parish is in some serious danger. Sam's sure he's the next target on the list and if he wants to take care of this hunt he's on then he has to have his eyes on his man at all times.

Currently, Sam's looking for a demon. It's been possessing religious figureheads in the local area. It started fifty miles away when a Rabi suddenly went murderous and killed an innocent woman walking home after work in broad daylight. She was found with her throat slit on her neighbor's lawn and about an hour later someone from the temple called the police station to report that the Rabi was also dead. He was found inside with a razor in his hand. He'd slit his own throat.

The pattern continued, a priest killed a devout Christian in the man's own home with the electrical cord of a lamp, strangling him to death, before hanging himself in the rectory of his parish with an extension cord. And then a deacon two towns over beat another man to death with a baseball bat before bashing his own head in with the same bat… all on the altar of his church.

And now the trail led Sam here.

The signs and omens are all there. He knows the demon is in this very town and since it's gone after a type different religious figure each time it has to be this pastor by process of elimination.

Eying over the speaking man with skepticism, he has to worry. He suspects that he could already be possessed. None of the other suddenly murderous religious figures showed any sign of change until the moment they snapped. Making a plan, Sam decides to stick around after mass and check the guy out… maybe put him through the usual tests to be sure.

And that's when the red head in the front pew turns around and catches his eye.

Her sights land on him for just a split second. When he looks right back at her she smiles something odd, the bright expression never making it to her eyes, before turning back around.

Hmm.

Sam brushes the moment off and concentrates on the task at hand again. Maybe at the end of mass when the pastor is saying goodbye to the church goers he can run to his car, grab some supplies, then break into his house on the church property and wait for him. That could work…

* * *

After skirting past the crowd of people on the parish steps, Sam makes his way to his car for his duffel and then heads around the building to the pastor's quarters. He knows the man will be socializing for at least another ten minutes, and so will his wife, so he has a little bit of time.

Picking the lock of the back door quickly, he slinks quietly through the main floor of the moderately sized house, checking the living room, dining room, and lastly the kitchen for people and anything suspicious. He sees no one and chooses to open up his duffle and lay out his supplies on the counter for organization.

"Who are you?" an alarmed voice asks from behind him and he whips his head around to see the same red haired girl from mass standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the hallway to the second floor staircase. She doesn't particularly look alarmed or worried, just curious with a touch of annoyed.

"Uh…" he stalls for time to think while moving to stand in front of the counter, blocking her view of his implements. Flasks, water jugs, silver knives, salt, his handgun; he'd rather not explain the suspicious assortment if he doesn't have to. "I'm Sam. I was just talking to your father out in front of the church. He told me to come by and wait for him here."

"Why?" she narrows her deep hazel eyes at him, suspicious of the situation.

"I'm… well, I haven't really been myself lately," he tells her in what could be considered the truth. "He said he'd like to talk with me. He wants to help… so here I am."

"Not sure how much help he's gonna be," she mutters mostly to herself but loud enough for Sam to hear. Nervously she runs a hand through her straight hair. His interest is peaked by the remark.

"Why's that?"

"He hasn't exactly been himself lately either," she tells him with a bitter tone, her arms crossing with the distress she shows on her face. Something is wrong.

"Really?"

"Really."

"How has he changed?" Sam instantly pries. This is what he was looking for. Answers. Proof that the demon he's after is possessing Pastor Stanton, much like he assumed.

"Look, I don't know you from a hole in the wall so I'm not about to discuss my family issues with you," she says sharply and turns around, starting to walk down the hallway. "You can hang out in the living room while you wait if you want."

Sam knows he can get her on his side. It's clear she's aware of something wrong with her father already. A deep breath and he decides that honesty might actually be the best policy here, which it barely ever is. Before she can disappear to the second floor he calls out to her.

"I lied."

The red haired girl pauses with her foot on the first step of the staircase. She leans her head to the side to look at the stranger down the hall of her house with sheer curiosity. "What?"

"I lied to you," Sam repeats. "Your father didn't send me here to wait for him. I'm here to help him because I already know he's been different lately."

"How would you know that?" she asks with worry, her eyes wide as she moves to stand in the opposite end of the hallway. They look to each other from the ends of the hall, about twenty feet between them.

"You might not believe me if I tell you. Actually, you definitely won't…"

"And you might not believe me if I told you what I've seen either," she challenges right back.

"I guarantee I will," Sam emphasizes.

"Again, you from a hole in the wall. I don't know you, guy. I don't trust you. And I'm pretty sure you just broke into my house."

Pausing for a second, knowing she's right on all accounts, he decides to just go for it. "My name is Sam Winchester. I'm a hunter. I hunt evil professionally and I send it packing. What's going on with your father is pure evil."'

"Pure evil?" she asks with wide eyes of fear.

"Most definitely."

"So how will you help him?" she questions, taking a few cautious steps towards him.

"I'm gonna exorcize the demon that's possessing him," he tells her as if the answer to her question is common knowledge.

"Possession?"

"Yes."

"Possession is real?"

"Very," Sam quickly states in an even tone. "And that's what's wrong with him, why he's been so off. He's possessed."

She takes two more steps closer. "That's why he's been angry all the time?"

"Yes."

"And it's why he hit my mother last night?"

"Yes. That wasn't your dad. That was a demon."

"And that's why…" she takes a deep breath. "Why his eyes went black when he called me a dirty whore of a pastor's daughter?"

"Yes."

Watching her process through the idea and get used to it, Sam waits but grows impatient. The pastor and his wife will be back very soon and he has to be ready.

"I need your help," Sam cuts into her thinking while grabbing his large salt canister. "When your parents get back here I need you to get your mother on the other side of this line." He lines the door way of the living room, then the windows and the other doorway leading to the kitchen as he talks. "Make sure the two of you are in this room and you don't leave. The demon can't get you if you're inside these unbroken lines."

"He can't step over some salt?" she asks with obvious disbelief.

"I didn't make the rules," Sam huffs a laugh as he works.

"That's ridiculous."

"You trust me?" Sam uses a line he's heard Dean abuse a million times, hoping it'll work.

"No."

"Well, you're gonna have to," he returns with quickly dissipating patience. "I promise you I know what I'm doing."

The girl watches him, arms crossed again, as he takes a kitchen chair and places it facing away from the counter with his supplies. He then goes to the sink, stops the drain, and places a rope into the empty basin. Sam then soaks it with one plastic jug of holy water, reserving the other for use as a weapon.

"Kaylee," the girl tells him quietly and Sam looks over to her with a questioning look. "My name. I'm Kaylee."

Sam nods. "I'm Sam."

"I know," she informs him that he's already told her this. "And I know I shouldn't because I'm not stupid… but I believe you. I think you really do know about this stuff."

"I do," he nods.

"You swear you can help my dad?" she asks again, making sure that Sam has a real answer.

"It won't be easy and it won't be pretty, but yeah… I can help him."

She nods. "What do I need to do?"

Sam smiles to have a partner in this hunt. It feels damn good to have some assistance for once.

He tucks his handgun into the back waist of his pants before grabbing the full jug of holy water and the soaked rope. Then he heads down the hallway to the front door. "Follow me."

Kaylee makes her way with Sam to the door.

"I'm gonna stand on this side," he explains to her while putting his back against the wall on the side that the door opens. "You stand on the other. When the door opens I'll grab your dad and take him down. You need to makes sure you get your mother and push her into the living room and keep her there. She's not gonna understand and she might not listen," Sam explains to her, handing over his handgun. "This isn't gonna do much against a demon so do what you have to do to keep her in that room and safe."

"She's my mother, Sam!" Kaylee panics when she sees the out held firearm. "I'm not shooting my mother!"

"I didn't ask you to," he answer back with annoyance, peeking out the side window and seeing the couple coming up to the door. "The safety's on. Just threaten her and if she goes to leave the room hit her over the head and knock her out. A concussion is way better than what this demon will do to her."

"I can't do that!"

"They're here  _right now_ ," Sam bellows in a strong voice to reel her alarm in. "You have no choice." He shakes the gun in his hand at her and she takes it with total fear. "You're ok, Kaylee. Just keep her away and I can help your family. Suck it up."

With terror in her eyes, Kaylee tightens her grip on the handle of his gun and prepares herself.

The doorknob turns and in a flash Sam is in action. He heaves one of the plastic gallon jugs of blessed water, a solid amount spilling across the pastor's face , chest, and left arm. He instantly bellows out in pain as the water sizzles and steams off of him, his voice filled with pain and a deep, inhuman tone.

The pastor's wife screams at the scene, pure confusion at what she sees combined with fear making her, as Dean used to put it, freak the fuck out. Funny how even in a time like this Sam still has these thoughts concerning his brother.

Kaylee hasn't moved yet, frozen in fear as she watches her father recoil from water and her mother begins to shout and attack Sam. She tries to push him away but she's weaker than him.

"Kaylee, move!" Sam commands in his controlling and stern voice, snapping her into action as he attempts to subdue the demon. As Kaylee's mother comes at him again he yells to her, "Get her the fuck out of here!"

Sam splashes the demon again, he screams in pain once more, and Kaylee starts to understand just how serious the situation is.

"Mom! Stop!" Kaylee suddenly shouts as she lounges for the older woman. "He's here to help!"

"What!?" her mother questions strongly, ready to keep going after the man that appears to be hurting her husband.

"Dad's been fucked up lately and he's here to help!" she yells back, yanking her mother by the arm into the living room, stooping to the floor to wisely fix the salt line her mother stepped on and broke. "Just relax for a second and let him work!"

"Who is he!?" she panics completely as she watches Sam splash more water from a plastic jug onto her husband. As it burns him she just can't help but be highly concerned.

"His name is Sam," she says as calmly as she can, grabbing her mother's shoulders, one hand still with Sam's gun in it, and making her listen. "He's helping."

"Helping how!? I don't understand!? Kaylee, what…?"

"Dad's possessed," Kaylee tells her mother as Sam ropes up the flailing demon in the hallway, pinning him to the ground as he moves as quickly as he can. It's a struggle but he has the upper hand. He has holy water after all. "That's why he's been different. And mean. And why he hit you and called me a whore. Give him a chance. Sam knows how to exorcize him."

"That's ludicrous. Kaylee, do you hear yourself!?"

"Mom, focus!" she shouts in her face while shaking her by the shoulders.

"Is that a gun!?" she shrieks when she catches the item in her daughter's hand.

"Yeah, and I'm gonna use it if you don't calm the fuck down!" She has to wonder where the hell that statement came from.

"Listen to your daughter!" Sam shouts to her as he's hunched over the pastor's struggling form. He punches the demon in the jaw once between statements, making both women jump with the assault. "I'm here to help!" He throws another punch when the demon keeps struggling.

"That doesn't look like help!" the pastor's wife worries while he attacks her husband.

"Well it is!" Sam promises as he pulls the man to his feet and reaches out behind him to pull out Ruby's knife. Grasping to the pastor's neck hard, nearly choking him as his upper body is tied up, Sam stands in front of the demon and holds the knife up to his face. "You know what this is, right?"

"I know that you're a fucking piece of shit," the demon snarls right back, its eye black as night.

"Oh my God," Kaylee's mother fears as she catches the sight.

"Oh, honey. Relax," the demon turns its head to look at her. "God certainly ain't in the building right now." He laughs manically but is stopped by another fist to the face.

"Maybe not, but I am," Sam tells him with confidence as he pulls the demon in close to his face. "And I'm pretty sure that I'm a lot scarier to you than He is right now."

"Big talk there, Sam," the demon taunts again. "Comparing yourself to God? That's considered blasphemy. I'm a pastor, I would know." He smiles wide.

"Good thing I'm not a believer then," Sam spits right back with a smirk. "So, the easy way is if you just walk your sorry ass down the hall and sit down all by yourself, like a big boy. The hard way…" he flashes Ruby's knife once more. "Don't think you'll like the hard way."

To this the demon has no answer so Sam turns him roughly by the shoulders and gives him a push towards the kitchen, the pastor tripping a bit as he does.

"Hop to, tough guy," Sam lightly tells him, peering over to Kaylee. He winks at her to silently tell her to keep up the good work and follows closely after the demon.

Kaylee has a moment of pride. She handled the moment. She pulled through. After being told by her parents for years that she needed to find her path, stop skating through life and doing nothing with it, she's pretty sure she just did  _something_  with her life. Exactly what she doesn't know, but it's something. She does know that she's helping save another person and that feels pretty damn good.

And she made Sam proud. She thinks it's probably tough to make that happen considering the picture she's getting of what his life must be like, but he liked what he saw from her. That has to count as another something, right?

* * *

"Just get it over with, Sam," demon complains from the chair it's tied to, the pastor's clothing soaked in more holy water that keeps coming at him in a barrage of attacks.

"Nope, not until you tell me what I want," Sam says in return to the demon as he leans back against the kitchen counter. He spies a bowl of fruit next to him and picks up a green, granny smith apple, turning it to check it over.

"You know what you're asking from me, right?" the demon checks with the hunter.

"Yep," Sam says with pure nonchalance as he takes a bite of the apple. "Sure do."

"And you know how bad it will be for me if I tell you  _anything_."

"Of course," Sam shrugs with a mouthful.

"So why would I bother, huh?" the demon tries to logic. "I tell you, you send me packing and I get ripped a million new ones once I get home as a traitor, effectively making hell worse than hell for me. I'd rather be sent back with at least a little pride and some assurance that I won't be public enemy number one for talking to your ass."

"Who said I was sending you back?" Sam wonders aloud, mouth filled with more apple and a tone almost too carefree for the situation.

"You aren't gonna kill me, Sam. Come on! I'm wearing an innocent guy here, a pastor even! And you're a fucking Winchester. You guys cry when the people you try to save get a splinter."

"Eh, maybe I used to," Sam answers as he remains relaxing and leaning against the counter, knowing how much he once cared and how badly the job affected him emotionally. "But the life got to me. It doesn't bother me so much anymore… as long as I get the piece of evil shit I'm targeting then collateral damage is just that… dispensable, collateral damage."

"The guy's family is watching," the pastor's voice scoffs. "You won't off him with them watching. Sam, you're not that cold. You're more like a cute little wounded puppy dog."

Sam picks up Ruby's knife from the counter and flips it once, catching it before peering over to the demon. "You willing to take that bet?"

"Sam!" Kaylee shouts over to him sharply from the other side of the salt line where her mother and she watches on. "You can't kill my dad. You said you'd help him."

"Yeah, Sammy…" the demon echoes in a truly patronizing voice. "You promised."

"Shut the fuck up," Sam says off handedly as he pushes off the counter with a foot, leaving the knife on the counter and picking up a half empty jug instead. While walking towards Kaylee he stops to 'accidentally' spill more holy water onto the demon in passing. As it shouts and drowns out everything around him, Sam walks to the two women.

"You can't hurt him," the pastor's wife says in a nearly choked plea.

"Relax guys," Sam tells them, taking another bite of apple. "I'm not gonna kill him. Not with you two here."

"Comforting," Kaylee caustically and angrily says. "Can't you just get the fucking thing out of him already? What's the hold up?"

"I need to get some info from him," Sam says simply. "Once he tells me what I want to know I'll send his sorry ass back to the pit."

"What do you need to know that's so important?"

"Where his higher ups are," Sam answers.

"Why?" Kaylee keeps prying, just wanting the ordeal to be over.

"Because, you want more people, more families to go through this shit?" When she doesn't answer him, Sam smiles as he somewhat lies to her. "Exactly. If I can get at some demons higher in the food chain then I can prevent this from happening again. I got this, ok? I do this more often than you change your panties." He smiles at her slickly before turning around and heading back to the pastor.

Kaylee does all she can to stop the smile pushing to break through with his comment. She's warming up to this guy.

"So what do you say?" Sam asks the demon, getting back to it. "Wanna play spill your guts? I'll give you the rules; you either spill your guts metaphorically or I spill them for you literally."

"Fuck you," he huffs and puffs back, catching his breath after the pain starts to subside. "You're not gonna kill me. You don't have the balls to."

"Not only does he have the ball to do it… he has the permission," Kaylee very boldly butts in from her place behind the salt line. She was tired of hearing the monster use her father the way it is. She's done with it and angry. Keeping in that fire suddenly became impossible.

"What?" the demon asks with sheer disbelief.

"You've killed people, haven't you?" Kaylee questions with tightly balled fists by her sides.

"It's kinda in the job description, sweetie."

"Then you deserve to die," she forcefully informs him. "And my father would agree."

The demon silences with the sheer weight of the threat from the young woman.

"So either you start talking or I give Sam the bright green light to go ahead and kill my dad with that knife you're so scared of… taking you with him."

Looking at her with wide eyes, Sam can't help but smirk with glee. She's good. Holy shit, she might be a natural.

"You know," Sam starts, tossing the knife end over end one more time and catching it expertly. "I'm getting bored. I'm bored with you." Sam then takes a few steps to close the space between them and stops when he's standing directly in front of the tied down demon. "Last chance."

The demon stares up at him, the last ounce of defiance in his expression, and Sam smiles wide.

"Nice knowing ya', you piece of shit," he says goodbye and brings the knife back in preparation.

"No! Wait! Fuck! Wait, wait, wait," the pastor's voice begs quickly, seeing that the bluff was not a bluff at all. "Stop!"

"That was a close call," Sam grin as he lowers the weapon. "Now you better start talking."

Closing his eyes tight, knowing just how screwed he is, the demon gives in. "Who you looking for?"

* * *

"Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire," Sam stops and glances at the two women on the other side of the salt line. They look ok and ready enough. He didn't tell them much about how an exorcism goes but he's willing to bet that nothing can surprise them at this point. "Te rogamus, audi nos."

And instantly the demon is pouring out of the pastor's mouth. The sound of the smoke rushing and swirling, the whirlwind gusting through the kitchen, Kaylee instantly rushes to her mother. She holds her in and turns her back to the action, shielding her from danger without a second thought.

The demon leaves fully, smoking out through the fireplace and the house is suddenly quiet. Sam looks to the pastor's body, slumped over the chair it's tied to, completely still. Moving quickly he uses Ruby's knife to cut him free as Kaylee runs into the room. She starts untying and pulling her father free frantically.

"Dad!?" she asks him as she works, her mother still standing at the edge of the living room as shock rules her system over everything she's just seen. "Come on, dad! Fucking say something!"

"Don't use that word," he grumbles lowly without yet opening his eyes. "So ugly."

"Seriously? Dad?" she checks to make sure it's him.

"Yeah, it's me, Kay." He slowly picks up his head to look at her by his side.

Without a word she dives for him, wrapping her father up in her arms before he's even fully out of his rope restraints.

"Thank God," Kaylee whispers as she clutches to him.

"Never thought I'd hear you say that phrase," the pastor jests quietly as he hugs her right back.

They stay that way, letting Sam cut him free and embracing the moment for what it is.

Sam then stands up and, without giving the reunion a second thought, he begins packing up his things. Job well done if he does say so himself. On to the next.

"Walt?" the pastor's wife calls out to him as she comes back to reality and gets past the awe and horror of everything.

"Jessica?" Walter calls right back and immediately he's on his feet with her voice. She runs to him crying and brings her arms around his neck quickly. They hold tight, relief washing over them both.

"I'm so sorry," Walter apologizes immediately.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Jessica rebuts calmly and sincerely.

"I hit you," he laments deeply, hating what he's done. "I hurt you."

"Shh, no you didn't," she assures.

As they have their reunion, Sam finishes packing up. He hoists the duffel over his shoulder and walks down the hall, leaving the family as they are. Goodbyes were always worthless to say. They can thank him all they want but it doesn't matter. He never did this for them anyways. He did this for himself.

Just as he reaches to open the front door he's stopped.

"You're not just disappearing like that!" Kaylee tells him as she pulls him by the forearm. He turns to face her, seeing her angry expression.

"I'm done," is his very simple answer.

"Well I'm not, you fucking jerk," she angrily tells him. "You're not leaving yet."

The way she says it, truly believing that she isn't giving him an option and he has to stay, catches Sam's attention. Looking her over, he decides it could be lucrative for himself. She's got something there, something sexy deep in there. He hopes this gamble is worth it.

"Meet me out front of the church. I just want to make sure they're ok first and I'll come find you.  _Don't leave!_ "

Kaylee walks away from him, certain that he'll do it, and heads back for her parents.

Sam makes his way to his car as his internal struggle of stay or go battles away in his brain.

* * *

"Surprised to see me?" Sam lightly asks as he stands up from his seat on the stone steps of the church when he sees her approaching.

"Not really," Kaylee answers back, walking right up to him. She's stands just a foot away and he realizes she's pretty tall for a woman. He's guessing five foot, nine inches or so. "I told you to meet me."

"Who said I had to listen?" Sam asks with a slight smile, amused by her attitude.

"I did," Kaylee strongly responds and begins to move up the steps of the church. She opens the heavy wooden front door. "You coming?"

Well now he's just intrigued by this girl and her very self-assured ways. So figuring what the hell did he have to lose, he follows her in.

She leads them to the front pew and sits down. She pats the bench next to her and he takes a seat.

"I guess I should probably say thank you first of all," Kaylee starts with.

"You don't have to."

"You saved my dad."

"I was just doing my job," he shrugs in return.

"Yeah, your job…" she says with pause, thinking deeply. "Sam, what exactly is your job?"

She looks to him with such strong curiosity that he's not sure what to think. He answers anyways.

"I'm a hunter."

"By hunter I'm thinking you don't mean that you go out and shoot Bambi."

"That's true. I don't kill Bambi." Sam laughs quietly.

"What do you kill?"

"Ah, everything," Sam says to her with simplicity. "Demons, spirits, monsters… the list is pretty extensive."

"How do you do it?"

"Kill them?"

"Yes," she pries, turning sideways in her pew to face him.

"Depends on the flavor monster," Sam sighs as he speaks with ease about the one thing that satisfies him in life like nothing else. "Ghosts you have to salt and burn the bones that it came from, Werewolves are a silver bullet to the heart, just like shapeshifters…"

"Werewolves are real?"

"Very. So are Vamps, genies… honestly, you name it, this planet has it."

"Oh, huh…" Kaylee thinks it over a moment. "So glad I asked." She laughs with her nervous energy.

"Most people can't hack knowing the truth. It makes them crazy," Sam starts to explain. "Or they convince themselves it isn't real and go one with their lives. Or, if they care too much or have some kind of twisted, fucked up need for blood and vengeance, then they turn into me."

"You make yourself sound terrible. You're not so bad, Sam," Kaylee smiles at him with the honesty he shares.

"Yeah, ha," Sam huffs a laugh in return for her comment. "You don't know me well enough to say that, Kaylee."

"I know you saved an innocent man today," she counters.

"And that was me on my best behavior. I've done a lot of shit… bad shit. I'm not a saint because of what I do. I'm… well, I'm fucked up because of what I do."

"Who isn't a little fucked up?" Kaylee counters, knowing she's no saint herself.

"Alright, fair enough," Sam nods before looking at her, really looking at her straight in the eye. "But I'm probably the worst person you've ever met. Don't ever assume you know anyone after just one instance. You don't actually know shit about me."

She pushes sharply out of her seat and grabs his face. Kaylee kisses him hard, his words somehow making her have an intense need to do so. She's not sure why, and she knows it makes zero sense, but she had to. There's just something about him and what he does. She's in awe of the fact that people like Sam are out there, doing such horrible and good work with no thanks. Maybe he deserves some thanks.

When she ends their kiss, she backs up a couple inches and doesn't let go of his jaw. Opening her eyes to look at him, she finds herself surprised by her own impulsive actions.

"Um," she says with still going surprise. "Ha, sorry."

Sam only looks back at her for a second… the time it takes to make his decision.

"Don't be," he answers back, grabbing for her. He pulls her into his lap, her knees to either side of his legs, and the frenzy begins.

Kissing him again, her lips moving fast against his with the sudden intense need for him, Kaylee lets go. Something about him is just pulling her. His life, his attitude, his purpose, his drive… everything. Sam is fascinating. Utterly fascinating.

Moving quickly, about as fast as his turned on state hit him with Kaylee's advances, Sam pulls her shirt quickly over her head. He gets a quick glimpse of her slim yet athletic body and notices the tattoo on her side. It's big, running from her high on her ribs to her hip, depicting an artistic rendering of what her father preaches combined with what he's beginning to think are her personal views. With sex ruling his brain he doesn't completely register what the tattoo is of, only recognizing scenes of death, a cross, and a pair of angel wings somewhere in the mix. She might be a little more on the wild side than he assumed.

To see if he's correct, Sam tightly winds his fingers into her long, red hair and pulls hard.

"Oh!" Kaylee cries out loudly with the sudden change, her head tilted back with his grip and her neck exposed. Sam's mouth lands eagerly on her open skin and she moans with how good it feels. She wasn't prepared for the rough demeanor he immediately shows but Kaylee is ok with it. He says there's plenty she doesn't know about him but that is a two way street.

Blindly, Kaylee finds the waist of Sam’s jeans as he continues to keep her head back by her hair.  She instantly reaches under his shirt and deftly opens the buckle of his old, very worn, brown leather belt.  Once open, she grasps the metal buckle with both hands and yanks hard, pulling it free.

Letting go of her hair, Sam reaches for the clasp of her bra.  He undoes it quickly and Kaylee swiftly pulls her arms through the straps and gets herself topless, the shame-free way she moves simply making him want her more.  She’s got a crazy streak he didn’t see coming.

As if to prove his theory correct, Kaylee loops his belt around his neck and pulls him in hard, kissing him again with a ferocity that he rarely sees in the women he finds out on the road.  Considering his size and build most women assume him as the dominant type.  However, changing things up here and there and having someone come after him like this is a more than welcomed change.  In fact, it’s excellent.

Amid harsh, bruising kisses she bites at his lower lip, dragging her teeth hard down it, and Sam groans deep and long with it.  Letting go of the belt and letting it hang around his neck, she grasps the open top of his flannel shirt and pulls hard, popping open every button.  As a few break off of the shirt completely with the assault, the plastic pieces clatter to the church floor and echo off the open room walls.  Sam’s eyes grow wide.  When Kaylee looks at him as she begins pushing the shirt down his arms she can see shock and, if his blown open pupils tell her anything, she’s sure she’s got him in her grip. 

Sam rushes to get his arms free from his long sleeved shirt, ready to find out where this girl is going to be taking him.  Wherever to doesn’t matter as he’s already on board.

Wasting no time at all when she sees him in just his v-neck, perfectly fitting t-shirt, Kaylee takes back the belt, folds it twice, and grips it in her right hand.  She then grasps the bottom of his shirt and sends it flying over his head.  She sits still for a quick moment, not having done so once since he pulled her onto him.

“Fuck yeah,” she says with sheer lust when she gets a good look at him.  He’s huge, all muscle, and she’s ready to completely devour him.  Keeping the belt folded once in half, she snaps it, the crack reverberating with a jolt in the otherwise quiet building.  She gives him one carnal look of complete need.

Watching her intently, Kaylee moves fast.  She grabs both his hands and, using his own belt, she wraps his wrist together.  She pulls the lose end through the buckle, yanking tightly once to ensure he isn’t getting free, and buckles it in place. 

“You’re a little kinkier than I expected,” Sam tells her, his face not showing one way or another if he likes it.

“Looks like you don’t know me well either,” Kaylee responds quickly and lifts his interlocked hands up and over his head until they’re resting on the back of his neck.  “Stay like that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam answer back, watching her get off of his lap. 

She bends down and opens his pants, tugging at them in total haste.  Sam extends the courtesy of toeing out of his boots as she does so that when she reaches his ankles with the rest of his clothing there’s nothing stopping her from getting him completely naked. 

Kaylee stands tall, bare chested and looking him over, and she sighs loudly.  “Fuck.  You’re like an adult playground or something.”  Her breathing picks up a bit as she takes the sight of his hardness in.  “And now I might actually believe in God and all his miracles.  Jesus Christ, Sam.” 

She drops to her knees, her fingertips pressing hard into the skin on his thighs, and finds it ironic that this is the first time she’s been happy to be kneeling in her father’s church since she was a child.  Staring up at him, eyes burning, she drags her fingernails up his legs, getting closer to where he wants them to be.

“I take it you’re not religious?” Sam asks as she grabs him hard, her finger wrapping tightly around him with eager excitement.  He’s thinking if she were a believer she wouldn’t be quite so comfortable with everything that’s happening between them in a house of God

“Not particularly,” she smiles evilly before lowering her head. 

“Fuck,” Sam punches out when she quite skillfully wraps her mouth around him, taking him straight down her throat like a professional.  Considering his size he hasn’t met too many women that can pull this off.  She really is impressive. 

His hands balling up and nails digging into the leather of his belt, Sam obediently keeps his hands behind his head, even if he’s quickly losing feeling in them.  She sucks him hard, her mouth powerful and harsh but just toe-curling-ly expert.  Kaylee’s outer appearance is truly defying.  She’s not the sweet girl with freckled cheeks, a warm smile when she shows it, and bright eyes.  She’s different, stronger and self-assured.  She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to get it once it’s in her crosshairs.  Sam has to respect that.

With the building pleasure Sam instinctually pushes his hips upwards once, seeking more of her mouth out of sheer need, and instantly Kaylee presses his thighs down onto the wooden pew when he forces himself deeper.  She takes her mouth away and looks up to him with slight anger. 

“What was that?” she asks sternly.

Pausing with the surprise of her stopping, Sam has to think for a second.  “Wanted more.”

“You want more than that!?” Kaylee asks with near disbelief.  No one has ever wanted more than what she’s given them.  She always gives her all and leaves her men satisfied.  Always.

With a sure grin, Sam answers, “Yes.”

“You cocky mother fucker,” Kaylee calls him out as she stands up, hands quickly opening her jeans.  “No one has ever complained about my dick sucking skills before.”  She lowers the last of her clothing.  “How dare you?” she says with a little wink in her voice.

Kaylee climbs onto Sam’s lap, straddling his hips like before, and holds onto the bench backing while staring at him.

“And to think that I was going to untie those hands for you,” she tells him, her lips just an inch from his.  “I was going to let you have your way with me.”  She runs her tongue along the seam of his lips.  “You look like you might know a thing or two yourself.”

“I might.”

“Mm, you are a dirty little fucker aren’t you,” she says to him while grinding down onto his hardness.

“Uh, shit,” Sam groans before looking straight at her.  “Alright, enough with the foreplay already.  You gonna fuck me or what?”

Eye wide with sheer excitement at his base and emotionless words and Kaylee needs to hear nothing more.  He grabs him hard and lowers herself onto him.

“Oh yes!” Kaylee loudly shouts into the church air.  “Oh my God, that’s a big dick.  Mm.”

Sam smiles as the woman in his lap takes a deep breath and squeezes her eyes shut as she adjusts to him. 

“Been awhile since I had one this big,” Kaylee grins when she opens her eyes to look at him.  

“Glad I could be of service,” Sam smirks right back and then her lips are on his. 

Need absolutely overwhelming her senses and better judgment, Kaylee is moving fast on top him, not at all embarrassed by her obvious openness with sex.  She slams down on him hard, the bench rocking violently with her grip on the back of it.  

“Fuck!  Oh yes!” Kaylee nearly shouts, making Sam smile something carnal.  Her volume instantly make him think of Lou.  He may not have the emotional tie to her that he used to have but he remembers the sex they had with fondness.  Sure, she was sweet at times and she let their emotional connection rule their encounter in the Impala’s backseat that one Christmas, but it was their first time he recalls with sheer lust.  Lou was wild, having zero pretense about sex just like Kaylee.  And she was loud.  Surprisingly loud.  He still can’t believe that she didn’t wake the rest of Bobby’s house while he fucked her on the old man’s couch.

“Ooh, yeah,” Kaylee pants, her eyes closed again when Sam sees the shift in her.  Her face concentrated and stern, brow furrowed, she picks up her pace even more.  Her moans become ragged and her hands leave the wooden seating to clamp down around his neck.  “Oh fuck.  Ah. I’m gonna… oh, shit.”

Sam feels his face form into a smile while watching her, something his face has rarely done since he’s gotten back.  Not sincerely at least. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, yes.… Oh fuck me!”

Kaylee’s hands tighten, nearly choking Sam as she strongly gives in.  Her voice bouncing around the room with very high volume as her intense orgasm barrels through her. 

Sitting still atop his lap, her body shuddering and shaking as she comes down, she breathes deeply a few time to collect herself.  Her chin pinned to her chest, she hums her satisfaction as she presses her forehead into Sam’s chest.

“Oh my God.”

“Thought you didn’t believe in the guy?” Sam slickly asks, her head lifting to look up at him.

She smiles wide once before pulling him in by her hands still around his neck and kisses him harshly, her tongue instantly in his mouth.  Sam battles her right back and makes a decision.  He wants more.  Defying her command that he keep his hands behind his head, Sam brings them up and over her head.  He pulls her in tight, arms locked around her and his hands belted behind her back, and he stands up.

Kaylee stares at him with wide eyes as he picks her up.  Taking a few steps towards the church altar, he drops her down onto the four steps leading up to it.  Still inside of her, she wraps her legs around him and he braces himself with his hands resting on the carpet above her head.

“I gotta say you are pushing _all_ my buttons, Sam,” Kaylee lets him know while in their interlocked position just feet from the pulpit, communion table, and the massive crucifix on the wall.

Sam slams his hips into her once, eliciting a loud and surprised moan from her as she lays on her back looking up at him.

“Oh you better fuck me with all you got, big man,” Kaylee gives him her fair warning.  “I’m _far_ from done.”

“Then that makes two of us,” Sam responds before beginning to fuck her for all he’s worth as Jesus Christ himself watches from his cross.

* * *

"Where're you going to next?" Kaylee wonders as she clasps her bra back in place.

Sam just glances at her as he picks up his shirt from the pile of his strewn around clothing he gathered up. He stays stoically silent.

"Good answer," she sarcastically responds, reaching for her jeans. "So what, just because we're done fucking you're done talking to me?"

Giving her a funny look, Sam pauses. "No."

"Ok then, where are you gonna now?"

"Not sure," he answers, threading his well-used belt back into his jeans.

"No other monsters out there for you to go take care of?" Kaylee prods as she buttons her pants.

"Oh no, there are," he plainly tells her. "There's always more monsters. They never stop coming."

"So your job is quite in demand, huh?" Kaylee smiles at him.

Sam nods a bit, never having looked at it as such, as he starts putting his arms through his flannel. When he tries to button it he stops, realizing half of them were ripped off by Kaylee just an hour ago. Guess he's pulling from Dean's style on this one and he leaves it open.

With her hands on her hips and a faraway look, Kaylee pauses and thinks. After a minute she makes a very bold snap decision.

"I want in."

"What?"

"I want in," Kaylee repeats with seriousness. "I want my life to mean something."

"No."

"Why not?" she wonders with sheer confusion.

"Because."

"Because why?" she angrily asks, dissatisfied with his answer to her.

Sam just stares at her, internally processing what she's requesting.

"Listen to me for a second here before you just say no to what I want like some overbearing father. I already have one of those and they suck," Kaylee nearly begs of him and grabs his arm hard. She pulls him to the front pew where they had recently just sinned away their Sunday afternoon inside the church and makes him listen. "My whole life I've been lost. I never had a clear path but I've always wanted… something. My parents constantly tell me to do something with my life but every option presented just never seem to fit with me. Until now."

She reaches for her long sleeved shirt and pulls it on, not wanting to be near topless for such a huge, possibly life changing conversation.

"You help the world," she continues. "You give up permanence and regularity for this greater good. You save lives and do it because you want to. I hate regular and I have never fit into the mold of normal. I'm fine with no permanence… that's just who I am already."

"You just don't fit into your family, that's all this is about," Sam tries to explain away as he's gotten enough of a picture into her life to know she's the black sheep in it.

"No, I don't, but I also don't fit in anywhere else either. I want more. I want to travel and get out of here. I want to feel like I'm not just drifting along in life with no real meaning. I'm not religious enough to stay with my family and I'm not book smart enough or patient enough for school. Everything feels fake but what I saw today, and what I did to help you… that felt real, Sam. For the first time in my entire life I felt like I was a real person with a real purpose. Today I made a difference and I want to keep doing that. I want in. I want to be a hunter."

Sam once more doesn't answer her. He just stares at her blankly.

"Well, fuck. Sam, say something."

"You can't come with me."

She gives him a look of annoyance.

"I've been doing this for years and I am in way over most hunter's heads," he explains to her. "No newbie can come along for a ride with me. It'll just get them killed."

"So what do I do then?" Kaylee asks with wonder.

"Wait, you still want in?" Sam asks with surprise.

She rolls her eyes. "As incredible a fuck as you may be, this decision isn't about running away with  _you_. It's about me wanting  _my_  life to be important and  _my_  need to be a better version of myself, you arrogant dick." She smiles at him. "The whole religion thing may not have stuck too well with me but the idea that evil sucks and people should be overall good did."

And she said the exact right thing.

"You can't just head out and expect to not suck at this," Sam tells her, grabbing his jacket and reaching into its pocket for a business card. "This is a friend of mine. He's good and he's smart. Just about the best hunter there is after myself."

"Charles F. Xavier?" she reads with concern. "This guy in the D.C. head office of the F.B.I. happens to have the same name of the headmaster of the X-Men academy? And he's a hunter?"

"Real name's Bobby. Call him and when you do tell him you got the number from me," Sam grins with her quick thinking. She's good and it makes him more comfortable with the decision. "He's trained a few hunters I know. Both women. They turned out really well. If anyone can help you it's him but it might take a lot of convincing."

"Not a fan of making more hunters?"

"Not a fan of ruining lives," Sam clarifies for her.

Sam starts putting on and lacing his boots.

"Why are you doing this for me?"

Sam peers at her for a second before continuing to put on his shoes. "You're strong. And smart. And you're quick thinking. You proved that while dealing with the demon riding your father." Sam sits back and looks at her. "Logically speaking, from what I've seen, you'd be an asset to the community. There aren't a lot of us out there and the number gets smaller all the time, especially with how fucked up it's getting lately."

"You think I could do this?" Kaylee wonders, needing to know that someone like Sam believes in her potential.

"Yeah, I do," he quickly answers while standing up. He begins walking down the church aisle while putting on his coat.

"Wait! That's it?" she says to him. "You save my dad's ass, we fuck like crazy, you hand me a business card, and then poof, you're in the wind?"

Sam just shrugs, thinking that it was as cut and dry as she says.

"Does this job damage your social skills or something?" Kaylee acridly asks him.

Sam huffs a laugh and turns back around. He walks out the large wooden doors of the church and gets into his car.

Successful hunt. Sent a demon packing, got some information from him before, had a seriously good lay, and maybe added a solid hunter into the mix. All in all, that's one good day.

Driving away from the church, Sam takes out his phone and presses speed dial two.

"Sam?" Samuel greets on the other line after a few rings.

"I got some pretty valuable info for you," Sam smirks, ready to go hunt down that upper level demon he'd been told about.

* * *

 

 


	44. April 3rd

* * *

He can't do this anymore.

It's the one though on repeat that's rolling through his pain and horror addled mind as he lies there on the rack.

He can't do this anymore.

The word pain doesn't do it justice. It isn't even considered pain at this point if one were to ask him. It's evolved into something more, something above even sinister and worse than evil. It's also constant. Common sense would say that the physical hurt he has to endure every second while down there just has to stop at some point… but it doesn't. The human body wasn't made to be able to withstand this kind of torment and attack. It gives out before the soul can feel this horrific extent. The body lets itself die way before this so that this kind of torture can't exist. But his body is gone. And his soul can't die. So it just continues.

He can't do this anymore.

The mental anguish is excruciating. He should be driven crazy by now, and maybe now and then he does slip into true insanity with the taxing and never-ending scenes of his life, of his dreams, and of his loved ones being dismantled and demolished one by one, but he never truly loses it. He's not allowed to. His mind just won't crumble and give him the peace of being nut-job crazy. Instead he has to keep watching, keep reliving the best moments of his life or the biggest hopes he holds somewhere deep within him (even though he was sure those nuggets of brightness would be decimated by now) as they turn ugly one by one.

He can't do this anymore.

The monotony. What can one even say about that? It's torture followed by more torture and then Lucifer squeezes in some torture before he serves him up with a big helping of torture complete with a side of torture. It never ends. It never will end. There are no time outs, just forging on. The endlessness is just so awful.

He can't do this anymore.

He wonders every day to the point of nausea what is happening with his family. He'll never know. Are they happy? Are they alive? Are they depressed? Are they hunting? Are they living the good life? Is there another generation around that will never meet him and only hear stories about his life? Are any of them still able to live functionally at all? He will never know. That answer will remain elusive until the end of all time. The mystery alone is exhausting.

He can't do this anymore.

He really just  _can't_  do this anymore.

"I can't."

The following silence is thick and heavy as Sam waits for the horrid response he's sure to get in return.

"What was that?" his torturer asks with anger and a bit of surprise.

Sam just heaves out a heavy, sorrow-laden sob, unable to say it again. He's so weak that he doesn't even have it in him to repeat himself.

"You can't what, Sammy?" Lucifer questions, his tone suddenly nonchalant and airy with a lack of caring.

Sam swallows hard before a pathetic and weak sounding whimper escapes his throat without his permission to. He couldn't stop it if he tried. All shame and all bravery has been effectively wiped away by his endless years and decades of horror.

He used to be so strong. He used to be like Kevlar for such a long time, Bobby's hope of him not giving an inch keeping him going and Dean's pride in his little brother's strength making him stronger than any human could be. But it's gone now. He can't find an ounce of anything tough and hard in him anymore. Every ounce, it's all gone, and crying doesn't seem like such a terrible thing to do anymore. Before now his stubbornness would stop him, so would his determination and sheer will. Now… well, now he's everything he was determined to not let hell make him.

"Sammy."

The soft and warm voice that says his name makes his eyes snap over toward the direction it came from. He knows that voice deep down. He doesn't know how he could, having not heard it since he was an infant, but somehow he just knows deep in his bones who that voice belongs to.

"Sammy. Don't cry, love," he hears his mother call to him. He's still on the rack, arms and legs strapped down and immobile while covered in his own blood, but Lucifer is gone, replaced by the woman he so unfairly never got to know.

Mary, standing at his side, runs her hands through his bloodied hair and then across his red-stained cheek. He wishes he had the strength left to deny these moments of terrible and fake imagery but he doesn't. He closes his eyes instead of fight it, letting the tears escape, and he wallows in the love he never received and he knows isn't real.

"I'm sorry it's so bad," she tells him, her voice like a warm blanket on the coldest of nights. "I never wanted this for you."

He wants to ask how she could make a deal with a demon, how she could be so dumb when she already knew so much as a hunter. She should have known that deal to save his father would come back to bite her in the ass… or bite her son in the ass… but he can't find it in him to ask such deep and sorrowful questions. Sam just wants to feel better for once and he wants his mother to do that for him. He's so desperate and pathetic it hurts to think about so he lets the thoughts of his sad vulnerability go and leans in to her touch to sap every drop of love from her he can.

"I wish I was there for you, Sammy," Mary's voice tells him with what sounds like complete sincerity. "I always loved you so much… my little boy."

Looking up at her through blurry eyes he tries to remember her even though he knows he can't. She's beautiful, truly beautiful, and she looks so pained to see him like this.

"You don't deserve this," she continues to sooth him in any ways she can. "You're too gentle and sweet… my youngest son doesn't deserve this."

"Mom, I can't…" Sam cries to her, the words getting lodged in his throat as he does. He's not asking for her help because he knows she can't give any. He just has to tell her how bad it is for him. "I can't do this anymore. I just can't…."

"You have to."

"No… please. I can't," he chokes out, utterly broken and shattered and just needing help so badly. "Mom, please…"

"No. Sammy, you know I can't do anything for you."

"I know," Sam responds instantly. He understands his world well enough that this little moment is not an exit for him. Exits don't exist. "I know that… just, just… just don't leave, ok? Stay here. Stay. Stay with me."

He watches the regret and pain wash over her face with his pleads.

"He won't let me, honey," Mary tells him what he already knows as she reaches and grabs tight to his strapped down hand with both of hers. "You know this is all I get."

Sam nods his head, the fright of losing her and this oddly given break scaring him more than any knife in Lucifer's hand could.

"I love you, Sammy. I have always loved you so much," Mary says, her goodbye clearly beginning.

"Mom, don't…" he starts, not ready for her parting words.

"You be a good boy," she keeps going. "You stand tall like I know you can and you hang on like the good man I know you are. Don't give up, love."

Sam nods rapidly, somehow rejuvenated ever so slightly by his mother's visit. If she wants him to be strong he can try and be strong.

Mary then leans down, her blond hair covering his vision in a golden yellow, the same color of Dean's hair when he was little, as her lips land gently on his cheek. She whispers to him, "I love you until the end of time."

And she's gone.

Inhaling sharply when he's left alone, Sam takes a second to regroup. He's in awe of the moment and he's not sure how to process it all. Blinking the tears away he awaits his tormentor's inevitable return as he's feeling less helpless now.

"You ready for some more, you fucking head case?" Lucifer's voice questions, suddenly standing by his head.

Sam pauses for a beat before quietly yet confidently telling him to, "Fuck off."

Lucifer smiles. There he is. His ploy worked like a charm. He knew when Sam started to get that far away, lifeless look in his eyes that maybe he'd gone too hard on him for too long. He has one toy in this eternal cage that he solely owns. He best not break it. So, to fix the problem, he gave Sammy a little love and boom, he's back in action and ready for more.

"Ah, love that wit of yours, Sam-I-Am."

And with that he begins to carve.

* * *

It's been over ten months since she returned to the honest, tax-paying work force and there is one thing about this new life she loves most;

Going home to her husband at the end of the work day.

It's cliché and chick flick as fuck, but Lizzy loves opening that front door, pounding up her foyer steps, and seeing Dean after a shift at the bar or a block of classes at the self-defense center. Sometimes he's watching TV, other times playing Lou's guitar, but he'd always look at her with a lit up expression when she was done for the day and became all his again. She just adored that.

Well, at least most days that's how it went.

It's less frequent that the opposite happens now but sometimes when she comes home Dean's isn't so much happy to see her as he is completely depressed to be alive.

Today is one of those days and she knows it the second she walks through the front door.

"Hi baby!" she yells up to the second floor while kicking off her shoes after a long shift at the bar and gets no response. "Dean?"

And instantly her dog Cass is at the top of their staircase. His body language is all off. He's pacing quickly back and forth, his focus switching frantically. His bright blue eyes on her, then they're down the hall to the living room, eyes on her, eyes on the living room. And worst of all he's whining. Cass is a quiet dog, never barking or making a peep unless he had to. But when he whines then it's the real deal. Something has him very upset.

"Oh no," she nearly whispers to herself when Cass gives it away. Dean's having a bad day.

Lizzy marches up the stairs and crouches down the pet the dog.

"It's ok, Cassie," she tells him, wishing he could understand what she's explaining to him. Whenever Dean gets like this, has a really bad day, Cass gets so overly worried it can't be good for his health. "Dean'll be ok. He's just sad."

She stands and heads down to the living room, Cass hot on her heels, and pauses in the doorway to look at him.

TV on in an otherwise darkened room, the glow lets her see it all. He's wrapped up in a blanket lying on the couch, his face the only part of him visible. There's a mostly empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table right in front of him. There's no glass and she knows she hasn't seen that bottle around here recently. He drank nearly the whole fifth himself in one day. He must not have gone into work at all. It's really bad this time.

And then she takes in his expression. Pain. Just sheer, all consuming, slowly killing him pain. She knows that look far to well. On a daily basis Dean does a fairly good job covering it up, layering a small smile or just a default, plain face over the hurt… but she always sees past it. Under it all he's still exactly this person. Dean is still the big brother that couldn't do his job and failed the one person he was never allowed to fail. He's still John's soldier and Sammy protector… even more than he is Lizzy's husband, she's starting to see.

And the worst part is… there's not a damn thing she can do about it.

Lizzy can't slap a band aid of burgers or sex over this one. It's not a wound that's going to heal that easily and it isn't going to disappear with her love for him. It's too deep a gash. She would know. She still feels this same way about Lou.

Cautiously walking into the room, Lizzy drops down onto the floor in front of him, sitting Indian-style and face to face with him. Cass comes along, his movements still worried and slightly agitated, though less so now that Lizzy is home.

"Hi," she quietly greets, a soft, barely there grin of comfort sent his way as she pets Cass once he's sitting to her side.

He says nothing in return, just sighs heavily with the weight of his daily burden and keeps his eyes trained on the TV.

"What was it this time?" she questions him, knowing every time this happens that it's because something, someone, or someplace reminded him strongly of Sam. There's always a trigger.

Dean nods to the TV and when Lizzy turns around she sees that The Three Stooges is on. With a smile as Curly starts his blind rage freak-out to the tune of Three Blind Mice, she straightens her expression before turning back to look at Dean.

"Sam liked The Stooges?"

"Yeah," Dean simply tells him.

"Wow, something the two of you agreed on?" She smiles warmly to him.

"We used to watch all the time on Sundays," he starts. "I'd set us up with big bowls of cereal and we'd watch all morning. It didn't matter where we were at the time. Stooges were always on Sunday mornings. Used to love this show. Would laugh our asses off."

He pauses and she waits patiently, ignoring Cass as he gets in her face a little to focus purely on her husband. There's clearly more to this.

"Sam was so fucking stupid," he continues. "Used to fight me every weekend. He said that Shemp was funnier than Curly. What a dumbass."

"Well that's just short of blasphemy," she agrees with him and he nods in confirmation. His eyes look red in the glow of the television. The childhood memories are always the ones that took the biggest toll on Dean. Back then, when it was just the two of them against the world, there was nothing that could break their bond. No drama, no disappointment, no anything besides small bickering had come between them yet. They were best friends in every sense of the term, even if they didn't get along perfectly as they were always two very,  _very_  different people. It didn't matter back then.

"Curly's a genius," Dean adds in. "Shemp's a poor excuse of a replacement. Sam's fucking crazy." When he says this a silent tear rolls morosely from the corner of his eye and soaks into the throw pillow under his head. She can feel the shattering of his heart in her own.

Seeing how harshly he's reacting to the show, Lizzy makes a suggestion. "Why don't you watch something else then?"

"No," he strongly tells her. "Love this show."

"Me too."

This time he actually looks at her, his brow furrowed as if to ask her, 'Really?'

"Yes, really," she grins as she can read his mind. "It' been a part of some great memories for me."

Dean then rolls his eyes. Of course. There's just too many coincidences in their lives. He should be used to it by now but he just isn't. He probably never will be.

"Don't give me that," she lightly says to him as she stands up. She takes off her jacket and shoes, tossing them aside. She then climbs onto the couch, filling the space between Dean and the backing of the couch. Pulling the blanket over herself too, she lies up against his back with an arm around his waist. "My dad loved this show as a kid. Actually, love isn't even close enough to the right word for it. It was more like obsessed."

Dean keeps looking at the screen, saying nothing, as his wife speaks her understanding and his dog sits by his head, clearly concerned about the state of his best buddy.

"When I was little I used to get up so early on Sundays," she starts explaining, her chin resting on his shoulder. "And Sunday was the day my mom got to sleep late so dad always got up with me. He'd make us eggs and toast and would let us eat in the living room… which was totally forbidden by mom. She was a neat freak. But Sunday… that was dad and Lizzy morning. We'd eat at TV trays and watch endless Three Stooges episodes. You know, I used to say I liked it just because he did but in the end I came around. The show really is just too damn funny, and it even holds up today." She kisses his cheek. "Sam is totally crazy for liking Shemp better."

Dean agrees but doesn't say it aloud.

"I know memories can suck sometimes," Lizzy tries one more time. "And I'm not about to talk you out of this funk because I get it. But just don't lose sight of what's still with you."

Dean closes his eyes as more silent tears leak out with the sheer pain of it all.

"You still have me," she reminds him, her arm around his waist getting tighter. "And you have Cass."

His eyes drift to the dog that's obediently sitting next to him and just out of the way of the TV. Cass looks at him and gives the slightest of whines.

"You scared him today," Lizzy says with a fond smile, knowing now for sure that getting a dog was a good thing not just for her but for Dean too. "He was freaking out when I got home. He loves you too and wants you to be ok."

Without a word still, Dean reaches out from under the blanket and pets Cass' head, the dog's tail wagging instantly as he licks Dean's hand with sheer affection.

They lay there together, unmoving, until the current episode of The Three Stooges ends.

"Baby, it's late," Lizzy says to Dean quietly, it being two-thirty in the morning. "Let's go to bed."

Shrugging, Dean starts to get up. He trudges directly across the hallway and into their bedroom, diving in without ceremony and curling up facing the wall.

After Lizzy brushes her teeth and washes her face, she brings Cass out for one more bathroom break and then makes her way to their bedroom. She undresses as usual and takes notice that Dean doesn't watch her. He always watches her change. Just another sign that he's way off tonight.

She gets into bed, curls up behind him, and once more brings an arm around his body. This time she closes a fist around his amulet that Sam gave him when they were kids, the necklace that she saved from the trash where it certainly didn't belong, before speaking.

"You did everything you could," she tells him. "Sam loves you for that. And now you have get better and be better  _for him_."

He nods again, not speaking because his voice is too choked to even come out.

"And you have to be ok… because the future of your family depends on it."

It doesn't come out as a threat or guilt trip but more of a kind reminder that she needs him. He's still depended on very much, maybe not by Sam but by her instead, and, hopefully soon enough, by another younger and brand new family member. He has plenty of purpose still left in his life.

"I need you," she tells him truthfully. "Never forget how much I  _really_  need you."

He tries his hardest on days like this to not forget, but sometimes the loss is so much stronger that it wins out.

* * *

 


	45. April 21st, 22nd, and 23rd

* * *

The second she hears the front door open and close, Lizzy is running to the top of the stairs.

"We need to talk!" she says urgently, her face a bit fearful as she stands at the top of the foyer staircase looking down at him.

"About?" Dean questions, looking up at her while removing his jacket and hanging it on the wall mounted coat rack before kicking out of his boots.

"We need to help one of my kids from class," she tells him, her yoga pants and sweatshirt from her self-defense classes that afternoon still on and a paper in her hand.

Looking at her face as he ascends the stairs he recognizes the sheer worry in her expression and grows a bit alarmed.

"What's going on?"

"I think there's something going on at his house."

"Like ghost bad?"

"Like angry spirit bad."

"Alright," Dean says evenly as he can see this is going to be a serious conversation. "Give me a minute to change and grab a beer?"

Lizzy nods, and makes her way back down the hall, disappearing into the living room with the paper still in her hold.

Dean stands there in the hallway and sighs, washing a dirty, oil-stained hand down his face with her clear alarm. An angry spirit? Jesus. He was finally done working for the weekend, had all of Sunday off, and she's going to fill it with hunting instead of relaxing. God love his wife for being so concerned and caring, but damn it for her need to help on the Sabbath. He wants his damn day off.

Washing up quickly at the bathroom sink before getting into a fresh t-shirt and jeans, he grabs two beers and heads for the living room.

"Alright, woman. What the hell is going on?" he says, taking a seat next to her and handing her a beer. She thanks him absently and places the beer un-drunk on the coffee table alongside the many papers and open laptop on it. She doesn't want to drink. She's too worried about this hunch of hers.

"There's a little boy, a student at the center. David. He's only seven. He's in my Saturday class at two o'clock every week," she starts to explains, her wrinkled and concerned face staring right at him. "Recently I noticed a change in him. For about a month he's been coming in looking tired, his eyes with bags under them all the time. I asked his mom about it after a couple weeks and she said he hasn't been able to sleep. He's been having nightmares and he's been scared a lot at night. So I decided to talk to him by myself."

"What'd he tell you?" Dean questions, surprised that a scared little boy would actually open up to someone he only sees once a week.

"He was pretty tight lipped at first until I told him I would believe anything he said to me. I think his parents have been trying to explain away everything to him, saying it's bad dreams and there is no monster under his bed kind of bullshit."

"Because they don't know it isn't bullshit," Dean nods.

"Exactly. So he told me there was something in his house. He doesn't always see it but he can feel it when it gets dark out. The way he described it sounded like that eerie feeling you get when you're being watched. So basically, whenever he's home at night… he's terrified."

"But he's seen it before?" he questions, already hooked into the case itself.

"Yes," Lizzy answers, handing over the piece of paper she had in her hand when he came through the door earlier. "After we talked last week he drew me this. Gave it to me today."

Dean looks at the page. It's done in crayon but he can still make out a bed with a kid in it. It's David's bedroom. At the foot of the bed is a man in all drab, gray and dark colors. He looks older, his hair drawn in white, and his face is set in what looks like an angry scowl.

"Seeing that in their bedroom, that would scare the shit outta any kid," he tells her.

"I know," Lizzy agrees. "And in the week since he told me it got worse."

"Worse how?"

"Instead of just appearing to scare him or moving things in his room… it hurt him."

Expression dropping to fear and protectiveness, Dean asks, "Hurt him how?"

"Today he had scratches up and down his arms," she explains. "He said he didn't know where they came from, that he just woke up like that. His mom claimed that he just must have done it to himself in the middle of one of his bad dreams. They're sending him to psychologist this coming week but, Dean… he's not nuts. And he's not having nightmares. I think he's got an angry spirit that's attached itself to him and he's fucking scared. He told me he doesn't want to ever go home. He's afraid he's gonna get hurt again."

Looking away from her to peer at the picture David drew once more, Dean has to agree. It all sounds like every angry spirit case they've come across. This poor kid is suffering and he knows, as much as a free day off would be nice, that he has to help this kid. He can't just let it go.

"Who do you think this asshole is?" Dean questions her, letting her know he's fully on board.

"That's the other problem," she starts as she pulls out some photocopied pages. "I went to the library this afternoon and looked up the property history."

"And?" he pries, taking the pages and looking them over as she speaks.

"Nothing. No one has died in the house or on the property that I could find. The house itself is only about fifty years old. David's family is the second one to ever live there. So chances are…"

"The spirit is attached to something in the house," he finishes for her, tossing the papers back onto the coffee table and sitting back onto the couch with a sigh. "So what do you want to do?"

"Talk to David's parents."

"Because that always goes over so well," Dean caustically responds before taking a large sip of beer.

"Well, when it's all we got then it's all we got." Lizzy shrugs. "I thought that we could head over there before noon tomorrow and sit down with David's parents. I think if we explain ourselves, what we know, and prove to them we aren't bullshit then maybe they'll let us help."

"Worth a shot I guess," Dean nods, all in. They may not have had to convince people that they aren't certifiable in a very long time but he still remembers how it goes.

"So you're in?" Lizzy smiles at him.

"You already know I am. That poor kid is all on his own. We're not gonna ignore that." Dean tips his bottle at her and gulps a big amount down. "But if you're about to ruin my day off tomorrow then you better make up for it tonight."

"Oh, is that a fact?" Lizzy finally cracks a small smile for the first time since he got home.

"Absolutely!"

"Fine. How about steak for dinner?"

"That's a start."

"And mashed potatoes," she grins as she slides over next to him.

"Still listening," Dean says with his interest fully piqued. Lizzy drops a hand on his cheek.

"And salad."

"Nope, you lost me…" Dean looks away from her, shunning her for the mere idea of adding fresh rabbit food to his bribery dinner.

"Dude!" she laughs hardily while grabbing his face with both hands. "Vegetables never hurt anyone!"

"They hurt my taste buds."

"Don't be such a fucking baby!" she laughs at him some more. "Plus, you haven't heard what's for dessert."

Dean glares at her and waits. Lizzy pulls him close and kisses him long and slow. When she pulls away just a bit, her eyes opening slowly, she smiles genuinely at him.

"Me. Hunter's choice."

"I get to pick!?" Dean wonders with glee.

"You definitely get to pick," she grin right back.

"So if I want Nurse Noonan to come by for a house call…?"

"She'll be here with in a jiff with her uniform and med bag."

"Hmm…" Dean nods, his mind already whirling around all the possibilities. "No, I want Mrs. Noonan, stern but fair school teacher."

Lizzy wrinkles her brow and looks at him funny.

"Come on, white button down, your FBI suit skirt that's real tight, the shiny heels, fake glasses… I bet there's even a ruler around here somewhere. If I'm acting up in class you can punish me with it." His slick smile, there once he gets a mental image of her like that, fades when he registers the sudden disgust on her face. "Ok… not the reaction I expected…"

"Mrs. Noonan is my mother," she explains her awkwardness with his request. " _And_  she was you're sixth grade teacher you had a massive crush on."

Dean realizes his misstep once it's pointed out and tries to excuse it away. "I wouldn't call it  _massive_ …"

"I would," she interrupts. "You remembered her after years of being out of school and after having hundreds and hundreds of teachers throughout your life. You crushed on her hard."

"Ok, fine," Dean shrugs. "So what if I did?"

"That's gross, Dean!" she complains loudly and backs away from him a bit. "You're trying to live your sixth grade fantasy by turning me into my mother so you can fuck her. That's twisted, dude."

"That's not… I wasn't intentionally trying to make you your  _mother_."

"Yeah,  _sure_  you weren't," she says with disbelief.

"I really wasn't," he tries to assure her as it is the truth. "But if it freaks you out I'm fairly sure I can come up with something else just as fun…"

"No, no," Lizzy stops him. "You want a school teacher than that's what you'll get. Just… I'm  _not_  Mrs. Noonan."

"Oh no?" Dean challenges, hearing the playful tone in her voice and knowing he's got her back on track.

"Nope," she confirms and kisses him one more time before getting up and starting to head for the kitchen to start dinner. "I'm Mrs. Winchester." She winks to him and leaves the room.

"Damn straight you are," Dean mutters to himself as he puts his feet up on the coffee table, sits back with his beer, and watches TV while he waits for his bribery to begin.

* * *

The next day Lizzy pushes the doorbell button, hearing it ring loudly inside the house, and her nerves get the better of her. This whole thing was way easier when it was strangers she was about to reveal her true self to… not people she sees once a week at her place of work. She's going way out on a limb here.

"It's ok," Dean tells her, a hand on her shoulder. "I got your back and they can't get mad. You're trying to help their kid."

"Yeah, while looking like a stark raving lunatic…"

And the door opens.

"Lizzy?" Lois says as she answers the door, clearly surprised to see one of her son's Mixed Martial Arts instructors standing on her porch.

"Uh, hi Lois," Lizzy somewhat stutters out with her nerves.

"Hi," Lois greets back, her hands on her hips and her brow wrinkled in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, that is a good question," Lizzy smiles before biting her lower lip. "I needed to talk to you for a little bit if you'd be willing to."

"Um, ok," Lois starts, taken very much off guard. "Is this about David?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Well I thought he was doing great in class…"

"Oh, he is!" she brightly responds. "David is killing it in class. He listens, takes instructions well… don't tell the other moms but he's one of my favorites."

Lois nods. "Alright… but then what do you need to talk about?"

Lizzy smiles awkwardly and shift on her feet a bit with a sigh. "It's about… um…"

And this is where Dean steps in to help her out as she clearly needs it.

"It's about David's issues lately," Dean interrupts. "Lizzy's noticed a change in him and she's concerned."

"And who are you?" Lois questions as she doesn't like this stranger speaking of her son.

"I'm Dean," he holds out his hand to her in formal greeting. "I'm Lizzy's husband." Lois shakes his hand. "Now, I've known Lizzy for a long time and she knows when something's wrong. She cares about the kids in her classes and when she feels she can help a kid in need trust me when I say she'll do whatever it take to do just that. You can trust her and if you listen to her for a few minutes you'll see that."

"My son is fine…"

"No, Lois, he really isn't," Lizzy very cautiously rebuts, knowing she has to tread lightly. Every mother knows best when it comes to their own kids, even when they don't, so she has to be very kind here. "I know that deep down you don't believe that he's having just nightmares. You think something bigger is happening here but you don't know how to explain it and you don't know how to protect David from whatever this is. Please, if I am, tell me I'm wrong."

Lois stares at the two of them and keeps quiet. She can't tell Lizzy she's wrong because she's actually spot on.

"David's a wonderful kid and he doesn't deserve what's happening to him. That's why I'm here. I want him to be that same happy kid he usually is again."

Lois sighs as she already regrets what she's about to do. "Fine. Come in." She opens the door and lets them in begrudgingly. "I'll go get my husband."

"This is total bullshit," David's father says with complete distain for the two people in his house.

"It's not… and I know how this all sounds," Lizzy tries her best as she can see she's losing Andy quickly with her explanation of what is happening to his son. "Just, please… give us a chance to prove it."

"No," Andy denies instantly, his hard set determination to not believe the crazy people in his house stronger than the hunters' concern.

"Andy, look…" Dean attempts to cut in and help the situation.

"No  _you_  look, whoever the hell you are," Andy stands up, pointing at Dean all the while. "I've never met you before and you come into my house and claim that ghosts are real and they're attacking my son!? Are you kidding me!? The hell are you two on, anyways?"

"We're not on anything. We're just aware of some things that most people aren't," Lizzy desperately tries again. "And I am completely putting myself at risk by being here. I am in a teaching position, David is one of my students, and I'm putting my job on the line to try and help out your son. Why would I do that unless I knew I could help him?"

"Because you're insane," Andy declares. "I want you out of my house and don't think for a second that I won't be letting Mark know about this."

"You know what, dude? Fu…"

"Dean! Stop!" Lizzy quickly grabs his arm and prevents him from hurling insults at a man who is already threatening to get her fired from her favorite job. "We're leaving. But please, please… don't let anything hurt David again. He's terrified."

Lois looks at Lizzy with something akin to compassion and fear as she and Dean get up from the couch and head for the door. On the way out, Lizzy discretely drops a folded piece of paper with her cell number onto the foyer table by the door. She hopes she read Lois' expression and body language right. Lois believes them, or at least enough that she might want to contact them if it gets worse.

As the front door slams shut behind them, Lizzy walks down the porch steps behind Dean and pauses once she's at the bottom. She sighs heavily and drops her arms to her sides with helpless defeat and Dean turns to see her disappointment.

"You did what you could," Dean reminds her, his hands rubbing up and down her upper arms. "They're just freaked out by the truth."

"I know," she says to the brick walkway at her feet.

"You can just keep an eye out for David every Saturday. Maybe you can slip him a canister of salt and tell him how to use it."

"That'll just get him in trouble."

"Yeah, well that's what you get when your father's a huge dick bag."

"Yeah…" Lizzy answers sadly, looking back up at the house behind her. "I'm not gonna sleep at all tonight."

"I know," Dean tells her, pulling her arm gently away from the house. "But you can't do anything else. Come on."

They walk slowly to the car, the disappointment hitting hard, and drive away feeling like they'd truly let the little boy down.

* * *

When Lizzy's cell phone rings in the middle of the night, Dean jumps slightly after waking from a deep sleep.

"Sam…" he mumbles his default response when he's still half out of it when any phone ever rings while he's asleep. He always made Sam deal with it instead of get up. The phone rings again and once more he calls out a little louder. "Mm. Sam. Get it."

Lizzy doesn't mention the misstep, the whole thing a bit too heart breaking to bother with. "I got it, Hot Shot."

She leans up and reaches to the night stand to grab her phone. She peeks at the screen and doesn't recognize the number. Lizzy answers anyways.

"Hello?" she says, falling back onto her pillow with her tired state.

"Lizzy!" the relieved yet still panicked voice calls out on the other end. Hearing the sound of a young kid quietly crying in the background, she sits up instantly with worry.

"Lois!?" Lizzy shocks out, not having been prepared to hear from the woman so soon.

"Yes, look… I'm sorry my husband was so rude earlier today but he's wrong. I think you and Dean are right. We need your help and I hope you can look past how Andy reacted. We need you. David needs you."

"What the hell is going on?" Dean asks quietly, waking up quickly with Lizzy's reaction to whoever is calling her at two in the morning. He sits up tall next to her.

"Lois, I'm gonna put you on speaker so Dean can be in on this," Lizzy thinks quick and sets the phone to speaker. "First take a deep breath and know that everything is gonna be fine. Ok?"

"Ok," she very shakily responds.

"Ok, good. Now, what's happening?"

"It got worse," she quickly explains. "Whatever this thing is attacked David again."

"Is he ok?"

"No, he's scared," Lois loudly says back. "It scratched him up all over again but on his stomach. And… God, I can't believe this is happening…"

"What, Lois? What is it? Just tell us what happened."

"There's nothing you can say that can surprise us," Dean adds to Lizzy's assurance. "We've seen it all and I promise we'll believe you."

"It left a message."

Lizzy and Dean glance at each other out of common knowledge. It takes a lot of juice for a spirit to pull that off. This is bad.

"What's the message?" Lizzy asks.

"Mine."

"Mine?" Dean questions, confused a little.

"That's what's carved into my son's stomach right now. Mine. It says mine," she clearly begins to grow more nervous all over again. "What does that mean!?"

"It means nothing if we have anything to say about it," Lizzy promises while placing the phone on the nightstand and jumping quickly out of bed.

"Does this thing want to take my son!?"

"I don't know… but it won't," Lizzy strongly says as she scrambles around the room. "Lois, could you put David on and let us talk to him real quick?"

"Yes," Lois answers and as Lizzy throws on some clothes, Dean following suit, they hear her talking to her son. "David, Lizzy wants to talk to you honey. It's ok. She's gonna help. Yes, just talk to her…"

"Hello?" the small, so sad voice asks from the other line.

"Hi David," Lizzy very calmly and evenly greets. "How are you holding up, tough guy?"

"I don't know," he answers, unsure of what to say. His voice is wobbly at best and the tears are clear in his tone. Being attacked like this would frighten anyone but being only seven makes it that much worse.

"I know it's hard to do but can you tell me what happened?"

"The man was in my room," he says, his voice heightened in pitch as he starts to cry all over again.

"Did he say anything to you?" Lizzy keeps asking, Dean keeping quiet as he hasn't met the kid yet. They both finish getting basic clothing on and Dean heads for the hallways closet where Lizzy has always kept their hunting supplies.

"He said I had to stay," David tells her. "He said I couldn't leave the house and I had to stay here forever."

"Well that wasn't very nice," Lizzy keeps her composure while running around the apartment with the phone in her hand, her dog suddenly following her around with the middle of the night commotion that he isn't accustomed to. "Is that all that happened?"

"Yeah. And then my tummy hurt."

"I know, kiddo. I know," Lizzy pauses with her sorrow for him. "But I'm coming over right now. And I'm bringing someone with me. We can help you and we're gonna make the man leave forever."

"You will?"

"Absolutely," she says, standing in the middle of the hallway and locking eyes with Dean on the other end as he has a fully packed duffel ready to go. "This mean guy is going down, sweetheart."

"Really?"

"Definitely," Lizzy angrily vows. "David, I have to go now so that I can get in the car and come to your house, ok?"

"Ok," David's very hesitant voice answers back.

"Hang tight, tough guy," Lizzy once more uses her favorite nickname for one of her favorite students. "I'll be there as soon as I can. We're gonna fix this."

Lizzy ends the call and sprints to the top of the stairs where Dean is standing before blowing right past him.

"We still thinking the spirit's attached to an object?" Dean questions, pounding his feet down the stairs to join Lizzy in throwing his boots on.

"Has to be," she logics. "They've lived there for years, since before David was born, and like I said about my research, nothing's ever really happened there."

"Alright, so I guess we do an EMF sweep…"

"And hope we get lucky," Lizzy finishes. "Exactly." She stands up and pulls her jacket on quickly. She then pulls her keys out of her coat pocket.

"Na, I'll drive," Dean tells her, Impala keys already in his hand.

"Does it matter?" she asks with confusion.

"I don't know," he answers, clearly meaning that it does. "I mean… Baby's a hunter as much as we are, right?"

"Jesus, fine," Lizzy rolls her eyes with his ridiculous love for his car. "Let's just get the fuck outta here."

* * *

This time when she approaches the front door, Dean walking along quickly behind her, she walks right into the house without waiting. She just needs to see David to know he's ok.

"Lizzy?" she can hear his voice from the kitchen and she makes her way back there as fast as she can.

"Hey, tough guy!" she smiles when she sees him sitting on his mother's lap at the kitchen table, Andy sitting in a chair next to them.

"Lizzy!" David nearly yells with slight relief as he gets down from his mom's lap and runs for her. She instantly drops her bag of supplies and crouches to the floor, giving him the big hug he wanted when he plows right into her while crying. "Dude, you're ok." She rubs his back to try and sooth the fear, glancing at his mom once as she does. She then takes his shoulders and backs him up a bit to look at him. "It's gonna be fine. We're gonna fix this for you."

David nods, his eyes red and wide.

"Have you seen the mean guy since I talked to you on the phone?" she asks him as she lifts his shirt to take a look. No doubt about it now, the word mine is gouged into his skin.

He shakes his head no.

"That's good," she smiles at him, trying to calm him as much as possible as she puts his shirt back in place. "David, I want you to meet someone I brought to help. His name's Dean."

"Hey David," Dean says to the small boy, lowering to the floor much like Lizzy already did and shakes his hand to show the kid the respect he deserves.

"Hi," David's quite voice says.

Pulling out an EMF meter from his jacket pocket, Dean flips the switch on and the lower lights just flicker a bit.

"You see this?" Dean holds it out for David to see. "This is going to tell us where the mean guy is. We're gonna find him and make him go away." David just stares at him for a second. "You want to hold it?"

Slowly, the child holds out his hands to take it, holding the gadget with two hands once Dean gives it over. The lights instantly flash bright and the noise it gives off is loud. David's eyes widen with fear as he looks at Dean.

"You're ok, dude. That's no big deal. It's just lighting up because you saw the bad guy tonight," Dean explains very calmly, though he and Lizzy are both highly concerned with the reaction the machine gives. The residual left on him is strong. This spirit is fucking big.

"So Dean and I are gonna look around your house and try to find the mean guy while you and your mom and dad stay here in the kitchen," Lizzy starts to explain, taking out a large canister of salt from her duffel and handing it to Dean. "I want you to do a very important job for me. I want you to put this thing on the kitchen table and watch it. If it lights up really bright and starts making a funny noise again you have to yell to me and let me know right away. Can you do that?"

"Yes," David answers, already responding to the distraction.

"You," Lizzy starts as she picks David up and brings him back to his mother, putting him in her lap. "Are a huge help, tough guy. Thank you."

As Lizzy places the meter a good foot from David, making sure it isn't reacting to him anymore, Dean starts pouring the circle of salt around the kitchen table and around the family sitting there.

"Stay inside the salt," Dean explains to them quickly. "You're safe inside. Spirits can't cross the line."

"That's ridiculous," Andy challenges with the very ludicrous idea to people who have not been exposed to the supernatural.

"Andy…" Lois' voice warns him.

"No," Andy still fights. "How does that make any sense?"

"Still? Really?" Dean asks him with disbelief that the man could still question them so much. When Andy just looks right back at him Dean shakes his head. "Unbelievable. Ok, well, salt is one of the most pure substances on Earth. Evil is the opposite of pure. You do the math."

"This is nuts…"

"Hey, you want to step outside this circle and take your chances with us while we try and help your son for you, then be my guest," Dean angrily suggests. Andy makes no attempt to move. "That's what I thought."

"Ok, so we're all getting along fine, everything is ok," Lizzy smiles, eyeing the two men while silently asking them to calm it down for David's sake. She then focuses on the little boy. "We're gonna go look around now. You need us, you just yell. We'll come running right for you and help." She then grabs an iron crow bar and places it on the table. "Mom and dad, if you see anything weird you pick this up and you swing at it. It'll go away, I promise. And  _don't_  break the salt line. Please, believe us or not… just don't do that."

Dean hands Lizzy a sawed of shotgun and Andy immediately protests.

"Guns!? No!"

"Relax, there's no bullets in these," Lizzy ties to calm him to not much avail.

"You are not bringing guns into my house, not with my son here!"

"Andy, for fucks sake, it's just rock salt, ok?" Dean loses his patience with the man. "It'll repel a ghost and it won't kill anyone. Plus, we know what we're doing. You need a beer or something to calm those nerves?"

"Don't be an ass," Lizzy warns her husband, cutting him off.

"Lizzy," Lois says to grab her attention and she turns to face her. "Thank you for coming. Both of you."

Smiling back with Lois' attempt to balance out her husband's fire, she responds, "Don't thank us yet. We still have to figure this out. Um, have you guys bought anything in the past month, right before this started? Any antiques or just… anything this mean guy could be maybe attached to?"

"I just redid the living room and our bedroom," Lois explains. "I bought a lot of new stuff, some of it antiques from a place in New Hampshire."

"Like?" Dean jumps in, the conversation possibly answering things for them.

"Like… um…" Lois thinks it over. "A few candle holders, an old mirror, a candy dish… a few other things…"

Dean can see how upset she's getting with the conversation.

"It's ok, Lois. We can find whatever it is," he assures her. "Just stay here, keep David out of harm's way and we can figure out the rest. Sit tight."

"Hang on, tough guy, and watch the meter. We're depending on you," she smiles wide before turning and following Dean into the living room.

"Shit, look at this fucking place," Dean complains as he looks around the overly done, quite cluttered room, packed with old antique… everything. "This is like looking for one specific needle at a fucking quilting convention."

"Well, let's see what lights up then," Lizzy suggests, taking out her own EMF detector and starting to sweep the place.

"When this is over, I just wanna give you a heads up… I might punch Andy in his neck on principle alone."

To this Lizzy laughs a bit, knowing she wouldn't mind doing the same.

"At least Lois is cool with us helping," Lizzy points out, making her way across the mantle, hoping the large, metal framed mirror will make the EMF jump but nothing.

"Yeah, she is," Dean agrees, keeping a keen eye out for any movement or sudden appearances. "I wouldn't mind her being overly thankful after this, huh?" Lizzy looks at him and he raises his eyebrows once mischievously.

Lizzy narrows her eyes before giving it to her. "Yeah, she is kinda hot isn't she?"

"Smokin'," Dean nods. "Maybe she'll want to thank us both… at the same time…"

"Mind out of the gutter for like five minutes here," Lizzy smiles out.

"Can't help it," Dean mentions off hand, eyes glued to his EMF. "And that douche bag is a lucky bastard. She's a certifiable MILF. She's just proving that hot chicks really do dig assholes."

"I dig you, don't I?" she laughs a little more at his way of thinking before sighing. "I got nothing in here."

"Alright, let's check their bedroom," Dean says as he leads the way up the stairs.

* * *

"So we've got nothing anywhere," Lizzy announces to the family as she and Dean come back into the kitchen. "We checked the living room and the bedroom and got nothing."

"Shocking," Andy sarcastically bites.

Lizzy grabs Dean upper arm when she sees the growing fire in him with Andy's rudeness to keep him in check.

"David," Lizzy starts, walking to him while carefully stepping over the salt line and sitting down in the chair next to he and his mother. "Did the mean guy ever tell you anything else besides you can't leave?"

"He said he wanted to play," David explains with growing fear.

"What did he want to play?" Dean wonders quickly, ready to get away from Andy and get this whole thing over with.

"He wanted to play with my army men," the little boy answers.

"The ones I gave you?" Lois quickly asks with wide eyes to her son in her lap.

"Yeah."

"Oh my God," Lois snaps her focus onto Lizzy. "Those are old. I got them at an antique shop. They're metal, really old… um, the guy at the store told me they're Civil War period."

"Oh that's got to be it," Dean says quickly to Lizzy. "I'll go grab them, you get a fire going?"

"Done," Lizzy says with a slightly excited smile as he runs off. "Lois, do you have a fire pit or anything out back?"

"Yes."

"Ok, this is going work out nicely," she grins to the little boy. "Dean and I are going to be in the backyard. While we're there you make sure you and your parents stay inside the salt. And if the mean guy shows up you yell to me. Deal?"

"Deal," David smiles right back to her. She holds out her balled hand and they bump fists in agreement, Lizzy winking right after.

She then takes off, heading to the Impala to grab some lighter fluid and some more salt as the kitchen circle used up most of theirs. When she yanks on the unlocked front door to open it up, however, the door won't budge. She tries again and still nothing. She truly begins to worry.

"Dean!?" she shouts up the stairs, checking on him as she has a bad feeling about what's happening in this house now that it's been sealed shut by the spirit.

* * *

Pounding his feet up the stairs, Dean gets to the little boy's room in no time. Once there, however, it's a little slow going.

"This kid's a freakin' slob," he says in a low tone, looking around the toy strewn room. It looks like he's been never told to put his toys away when he's done with them. What the hell is that? He'd never let his own kid get away with this kind of crap. That's just a lazy kid. He and Lizzy's children would never be so irresponsible….

Holy shit. Did he really just have that thought? Lizzy's family crap is getting to him.

He begins sorting through everything, opening several Tupperware containers of Legos and other toys, but no luck.

Getting onto the floor, Dean peeks under David's bed. "Bingo."

He pulls out yet another plastic box but this one is filled with small, hand-painted, silver metal army figures, about three inches tall each.

As he stands up, box in hand, Dean freezes when he feels the change in the room. It's that all too familiar feeling, the one where the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and it feels like someone is watching him. Dean's no stranger to this. And as he exhales, his breath coming out in a cloud with the temperature plummeting, he knows he has to hurry.

"Dean!?" he can hear Lizzy calling up to him from downstairs. The spirit knows they're up to no good and it's reacting.

Rushing out the door of the bedroom, Dean makes his way quickly down the stairs.

"What's up?" he asks Lizzy as he approaches her at the bottom of the staircase.

"Doors are sealed."

"Shit."

"I know."

Dean keeps moving. He rushes into the kitchen.

"Does your fireplace work?"

"Yes," Lois asks, wide eyes. He leaves them and runs to the living room as Lizzy come into the kitchen after him.

"Lighter fluid?" she asks, heading for the cupboards over the counter.

"In the drawer by the microwave," Lois tells her. "I thought you were going outside?"

"So did I," Lizzy answers as she digs through the drawer filled with assorted junk. She finds a small tin bottle of lighter fluid and smiles. Slamming the drawer shut, she turns to look at the family. "It might get a little crazy in here for a little bit but you hang on, ok?"

All three just stare at her with wide eyes.

"It'll be fine," she says as she runs off.

"Open the flue!" Andy shouts after her. "Don't want you burning my house down."

"Got it!" she yells over her shoulder.

Once in the living room, Lizzy looks into the open container of metal army men that Dean has in his hands.

"That's what all the fuss is about?" she wonders, taking out her EMF from her pocket and flipping it on. The second she puts it near the toys it goes crazy.

"I'd say so," Dean answers back, taking the lighter fluid. He reaches up the chimney and opens the flue like Andy yelled to them to do before flipping open the lighter fluid top. He then stops. "Shit."

"What?"

"No wood." He looks around the room to see if there's any firewood around but no dice.

"That's gonna be a problem," Lizzy mutters with annoyance and as she does her breath comes out in a white puff in the air.

Dean breathes out hard and his does the same, the room freezing all of a sudden. "That's gonna be a bigger problem." He places the box of antique toys onto the floor at his feet.

Lizzy pulls out the extra crowbar she had hanging from a belt loop and Dean grips harder to his shotgun, cocking it once. They look around the room, keeping back to back to protect each other, ready for the spirit to show up at any second.

"Plan?" Lizzy asks Dean as they wait for the sure to come attack.

"Bust up that coffee table?" Dean tries, having come up with that as the only option at this point.

"I can do that," Lizzy says, tightening her grip on her weapon. "Cover me?"

"Done," Dean answers back.

Lizzy sets to work, quickly overturning the dark wood table, the small antique figurines on it cracking as they hit the carpet hard. She starts yanking on the legs to pull them free first when Dean gives her the warning.

"We got company," he says to her.

They both look at the figure on the other side of the room. It's a tall man, almost Sam's height, dressed in a Union soldier uniform. His eyes are locked on the box of toys at Dean's feet.

As the spirit's eyes look between the two of them, almost as if studying them, he actually speaks to them.

"Those aren't yours," he says and points to the army men.

"No, but they're not yours anymore either, dude," Dean rebuts, taking a steadfast stance. "Aren't you too old for toys anyways?"

The spirit holds out his hands, reaching for the box, and it shoots across the room and into his hands. He clutches it tight in his grip and heads down the hallway, his movement too smooth and quick to be real.

"You start the fire!" Lizzy says quickly and switches the crowbar with his shotgun, taking off after the ghost.

"Lizzy, no!" Dean tries to protest, wanting to go after the spirit instead of her but she's already gone. "Shit!" He immediately uses the crowbar to start breaking the coffee table into pieces, all the while keeping an ear out for Lizzy and the others in the kitchen.

When she runs into the room Lizzy finds herself face to face with a very bitterly upset spirit that can't make its way to David because of the carefully laid salt line. He paces abruptly back and forth, clutching the plastic container with the toys that keep him on Earth while the family in the kitchen stare with wide eyes. At least Andy can't call them liars any longer.

"Hey!" Lizzy shouts to get the spirit's attention. It turns sharply to look at her, a seriously chilling grimace on its face. Before it can come for her she fires her shotgun, dissipating the ghost as the family in the room jumps and cowers with the blast.

"Holy shit," Lizzy can just hear Andy say under his breath while his eyes are huge and about to pop out of his head.

"I know, right?" Lizzy agrees with glee. "I think you owe your son an apology. He never lied to you."

Andy just shakes his head speechlessly, unable to form words with what he's just seen.

Lizzy rushes to pick up the box off the floor. "Ok, so far we're doing ok. All we have to do is destroy these little guys," she shakes the box, the army men clattering around inside it. "And he'll be gone for good."

"Wait, that didn't just do it?" Lois asks, having assumed Lizzy 'killed' the spirit with her shotgun.

"Unfortunately it isn't that easy," Lizzy explains quickly. "Salt can repel a spirit but it's only temporary. He'll be back."

"Lizzy, be careful," David worries to her, scared for her safety. He's seen what the mean guy can do and he doesn't want that to happen to her too.

"I'm being careful, kiddo," Lizzy promises to him as she steps closer, wanting to assure him as much as she can after all he's been through. "I've done this before."

David nods. "Just don't get hurt."

"I won't, tough g…"

And she's stopped mid-word when she's thrown across the room when the spirit reappears.

The initial shove is a hard one. It sends her sliding across the tile kitchen floor until she hits the wall with huge force. She grunts loud with the impact, her shoulder taking the brunt of the collision.

"Lizzy!" David yells out and jumps down from his chair, intent on running to her to help her.

"David, freeze!" Lizzy shouts to him, using her usual class commands for wily kids while dealing with the pain shooting down her arm as she lies on her side and looks to him. "Don't you dare come over here!"

"But you're hurt!" David yells to her as his mother grabs him and holds him there, not letting him out of the circle. The mean guy then moves in the blink of an eye to stand in front of him, glaring at him with anger for a beat before turning his attention back to Lizzy as she's the only one outside the salt line and therefore the only one he can get to.

"Fuck me," Lizzy quietly complains as she scrambles across the floor to her dropped shotgun, grabbing it just in time to lift it with her good arm and shoot the spirit once more before it can come for her. It disappears and she realizes how dyer it is that she move fast. This spirit has some serious juice and she does not want to be thrown around again. She gets up, sprints to the box and grabs it, her arm protesting with sharp pain that makes her cry out a bit. "Stay put!" she commands to the family members and runs to the living room, her right arm sagging with pain.

"The fuck is going on in there?" Dean asks her the second her sees her come in. He's busted apart the table enough to makes a decent sized wood pile in the fireplace.

"We were just chatting over a nice glass of Pinot… what the fuck do you think is going on?" she says to him with anger over herself letting a spirit get the jump on her. "Let's just burn these things and end this."

"Way ahead of you," Dean tells her, lighting up his old, dented zippo and tossing it onto the pile. It lights up immediately, having already doused it with lighter fluid.

"Thank God!" she cheers, opening he container as Dean salts the flame with the last of their salt supply.

"Those aren't yours!" the booming, eerie voice shouts with fury and when they turn they see the spirit of the soldier standing to their right, watching what they're about to do.

Lizzy quickly dumps the army men figurines into the flame, not even willing to wait the time it took to give him a witty comeback. The old, brittle metal begins to melt almost immediately and the spirit shouts out into the house as he fizzles off into the air.

And then it's quiet. Dead quiet.

"Oh thank God," Lizzy sighs out as she drops the plastic container onto the floor and hunches over, grabbing her shoulder with a groan.

"L, you ok?" Dean asks, putting the container of salt on the carpet and walking to her immediately.

"Got tossed into a wall," she says as the adrenaline drains and the pain starts to really set in. "Pretty sure I dislocated it."

"Fuck," Dean complains, knowing how much that hurts and how shitty the fix is. "Let grabs our stuff quick then and go deal with that."

"Yeah, after I down a whole bottle of whiskey to my face first," Lizzy bitches as she does not look forward to popping her shoulder back in. That always sucked. She looks around the room. "Crap. We totally trashed their house."

"And saved their kid," Dean plays Devil's advocate as he takes the shotgun from her so she doesn't have to carry it before grabbing his crowbar off the floor along with the salt canister. "I think they can handle their house being thrashed if their kid's alive."

* * *

"So he's gone for good?" Lois asks, her hopeful voice needing to hear that it's over once and for all.

"Oh yeah," Lizzy assures as she sits at the kitchen table with her and David, a bag of frozen vegetables pressed to her shoulder. "He's gone for good. There's no coming back from our send off for him." She turns to David. "So now, you can sleep through the night without getting scared. The mean guy is never going to hurt you again."

David just smiles at her as he loves what he's hearing.

"I don't even know how to being to thank you," Lois starts to say and Lizzy shakes her head.

"Don't worry about," she smiles. "This is what Dean and I used to do every day. We've been out for a while now and if I'm being honest, it felt good to help out again."

"Doesn't look like it feels too good," Lois rebuts as she nods to Lizzy's shoulder.

She laughs. "I've had much worse, trust me. This is a scratch." She glances at David and sighs. "You know what? The best way you can thank me is by never, ever looking back at this whole thing. Forget it ever happened and raise David the best you can… safely. That's it."

Lois gives her a funny look, knowing something more is bubbling beneath the surface of her words. "You care a lot, don't you?"

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't," Lizzy smiles back, this time it's a little forced.

"Well, I owe you my son's life, so I'm glad you have that kind of conviction," Lois responds. "I hope I can do as good a job with David as your parents did with you."

Lizzy looks to the kitchen table top and doesn't respond to that one. Her parents did do an excellent job with her she likes to think. And they gave their lives to make sure she was able to get out there and do the kind of good that Lois is talking about.

"I'm sorry," Lois apologizes with Lizzy's reaction to her words. "I feel like I touched a nerve there."

"No, it's ok," Lizzy tells her. "You're right… my parents were wonderful and they raised me right."

Lois hears the 'were' loud and clear and drops the subject. "You should go get that shoulder checked out," she suggests with worry as Dean comes into the room once the Impala is packed up.

"Nah, we can handle a little dislocation," Dean smirks as he stops to stand next to Lizzy. "Been there, done that a few times before, right honey?"

"Yes dear," she jests right back, glad her husband could show up and lighten the mood a bit for her.

"Well, if you need anything you let us know?" Lois asks, wanting to help them any way possible.

"Thank you but we're ok," Lizzy says, standing up with a wince when she jostles her arm just a little. She hands back the package of vegetables.

"We should have brought our med supplies," Dean complains as he watches her, worrying about her.

"Didn't have time," she brushes off. "Plus, I'm tougher than you. I can hack it without complaining."

"Oh you're tougher than me?" Dean challenges right back, moving her arm for her and bringing her other, unharmed one up to support it. He's been there and knows how to hold a dislocated arm for minimal pain.

"So much tougher," Lizzy huffs back. "You're a freakin' wimp."

"Well almighty tough woman, let's get home and pop that baby back in place," Dean smiles to her before turning to Lois. "You let us know if anything else weird happens, ok?"

"Thank you," Lois says to him, fully meaning it.

He nods back and ushers Lizzy out the door, ready to catch what little sleep they can before Monday morning hits hard.

Before they can make it to the front door, Lizzy is stopped when David runs to her and bear hugs her legs.

Dean catches the elated smiles Lizzy has when he does that. Knowing her this whole thing has been more than worth it for just that gesture alone.

She turns to look down at him. "I'd hug you back, tough guy, but I can't right now."

"It's ok," David says back. "Thanks Lizzy."

"You're welcome," she says back with a genuine, bright smile. "Now go get some sleep for once! And I'll see you Saturday!"

David grins and heads up the stairs, not even afraid to go alone now that he knows it's safe to.

Lizzy glances at Dean with her face-breaking smile and Dean winks back, heading out the door. They pass Andy sitting on his front steps, smoking a cigarette with shaking hands.

"Have a good one Andy," Dean sarcastically says over his shoulder. "You've been a perfect host."

No response, they just keep walking. Dean opens the car door for Lizzy so she doesn't get hurt opening it.

"What a dick," Dean mutters to her.

"Give him a break… his ego was just totally shattered by a couple of insane lunatics."

Dean laughs as she gets in for the drive home, ending their quick foray into their old life.

* * *

 


	46. May 5th

* * *

"Dude!" Ryan calls to his friend over the loud music in the bar. He elbows Donovan to grab his attention as they wait for service on a busy Saturday night. The college crowd came out in droves this weekend.

"What?" Donovan asks, following Ryan's eye line behind the circular bar.

"That bartender is fucking hot," Ryan says with emphasis while eyeing the dark-haired woman over while she works.

"Yeah, she is," Donovan quickly agrees with his friend that's visiting from out of town. "She works, like, every Saturday night. Lizzy's pretty cool."

"Lizzy, huh?" Ryan echoes as he checks her out. Good sized boobs, great ass, thin but not too thin, athletic, perfect face… she's a true hottie.

"Ry, don't even start, man," Donovan complains, already knowing where his womanizing friend's head is at.

"What!?" he innocently asks.

"Let it go, ok?" Donovan tries to warn him. "She's only gone home with, like, one guy since she's worked here. That's it. She's not the usual bar fly slut you go after."

"Hey, that's fine. I like a challenge," Ryan shrugs off as he see the bartender heading his way.

"That's not a challenge, dude," Donovan promises. "That's just a lost cause. Trust me, you'll never get her."

"I hope you like eating your words, Ry-Guy." Donovan's been known to be a quite self-assured person. He knows he's good looking and always uses his clear, baby blue eyes to his advantage. And now, after getting a look at her, Ryan has a goal for the night. Lizzy. She's what he wants.

"Hello there, boys," Lizzy grins wide and she recognizes one of the local college students as a regular. "How you doing, Donovan?"

"Not too bad, Lizzy. Can I get a Bud Light?"

"Absolutely," she smiles before turning her sights to Ryan. "And what can I get your cute friend here?"

Ryan flashes his best smile. "His cute friend would love a Glenlivet on the rocks."

Lizzy's eyes go wide as she leans onto the bar with her elbows, the v-neck t-shirt she wears giving him quite the view. "Well, well, cute friend. You have quite the taste in whiskey."

"I like to think I have a more sophisticated palate than most people my age," he responds while leaning an elbow onto the bar as casually as he can, leaning into her and turning up the charm immediately.

Donovan rolls his eyes with embarrassment of his lame ass friend.

"Good for you, hon," she warmly says to him with a giggle. "Be right back with those drinks."

Lizzy walks away and while staring at her ass Ryan feels quite accomplished. After all, making a solid first impression is half the battle. He's feeling good about that introduction.

"Dude, she just leaned over and gave me the full blown cleave-shot," he says to Donovan with far too much confidence. "Oh, I'm as good as in."

"You're an ass," his friend returns with sharply. "I already told you, you'll never get her, dude. Not worth the effort. Let's just have some fun and get blasted."

"You wanna bet?" Ryan's eyes light up with mischief.

Donovan pauses. "You want to bet me that you can take  _her_  home tonight?" he wonders with skepticism as he points at Lizzy pouring some Glenlivet into a rocks glass.

"Absolutely," Ryan answers. "I got this one in the bag already even if you seem to think it's some Mission Impossible shit."

"Because it is Mission Impossible shit," smirks Donovan.

"Money where your mouth is then!" Ryan sets up as he holds out his hand. "I get Hot Lizzy to come home with me at the end of her shift then you gotta pay our tab for the night."

"Are you serious right now?" Donovan has to check as he's disbelieving the offer set before him.

"As a heart attack, bro," Ryan confirms. "I'm gonna be balls deep in that chick tonight and you're gonna pay for my buzz."

"And that's why I'll never understand how  _you're_  the one out of the two of us that gets laid all the time…"

"If I fail, then the tab's on me."

Donovan stares at the extended hand for a second and then looks around just in time to see a certain handsome, tall, dirty blond man walk into the bar. He smiles wide.

"You're gonna regret this, Ry," Donovan smiles wide and shakes his hand.

"Ah… I love getting a free bar tab on the same night as I get laid," Ryan slyly says as Lizzy returns with the drinks.

"Eleven-fifty, guys," she smiles warmly to them both.

"Lizzy, why don't you go ahead and start a tab for me," Ryan asks of her.

"Not a problem. You need anything else at all, you come find me," she says perkily and winks at Ryan before turning to the newcomer next to him. "Hi there. What can I get ya'?"

As Donovan and Ryan walk away to relocate, Donovan catches Lizzy talking to the blond guy that just walked in with a smile on her face and some serious excitement in her expression. He tries to mask the quick laugh he couldn't keep in.

Easiest free booze he's ever made.

* * *

"Glenlivet rocks," Lizzy says as she serves Ryan his second drink of the night. She places the glass in front of him with a kind smile.

"Thank you," he says back, flashing his pearly whites as best he can.

"So polite," Lizzy grins in return, leaning onto the bar top with her elbows once more while looking at him. Ryan does his absolute best to not stare right at her cleavage on display. "Most young people don't even know the phrase thank you."

"Well I'm not most people," Ryan assures her. "Just ask my mom."

"Your mom, huh?" Lizzy laughs with his easy going humor.

"Oh yeah. She says I'm a real catch," Ryan slickly tells her, also leaning his elbows onto the bar and staring straight into her dark eyes.

"You're funny," she wags a finger at him with a giggle just as someone walks up to the bar next to Ryan. Lizzy turns to look at him without standing up from where she is. "What can I get you, Dan?"

"Dean," the man corrects for her with a light, unaffected tone.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says, making an embarrassed face as she stands tall and turns to him. "Dean. What can I get you,  _Dean_?"

"Nah, it's ok that you forgot," Dean excuses her mistake, making it clear that he really doesn't mind with a bright smile. "Just means I gotta work a little harder to make more of a lasting impression on you from here on out."

"Sure does, sweetheart," she laughs with his outlook.

"El Sol… if you'd be so kind," he orders, his hands pressed into the bar top.

"Yes, sir," she winks back and before leaving she adds in, "And you better watch out, Dean. You might have a fight for me on your hands." She nods her head at Ryan and walks away.

"Really?" Dean says with casual surprise and turns to look at the guy next to him, certain in a second that he's easily ten years younger than himself.

"Guess so," Ryan confidently returns. Lizzy couldn't even remember this guy's name. There's no contest here. This guy's no threat to him in the least.

"Huh, well may the best man win," Dean cordially says before pointing at Lizzy while she's bent over the cooler. "Because that, my friend… is one fine piece of ass."

"Gotta agree with you there," Ryan concurs while looking at her. "Great ass."

"Just makes you wanna leave a handprint on it, don't it?" Dean shares a knowing grin.

"Oh, hell yes," Ryan adds in quickly, wanting to do so quite badly.

"Mmm," Dean hums, smirking to himself as he watches Lizzy move around behind the bar.

"Well, at least for an old guy you have good taste," Ryan jabs a little as he takes a sip of his drink.

"Old guy?" Dean grins with lifted eyebrows as he looks over at Ryan.

"You heard me," Ryan quickly gets in before Lizzy returns and can hear him being rude.

"You boys settle this with your words?" she jokingly asks while placing the beer in front of Dean. "Or do you have to take this one outside?"

"No, no. Don't you worry. I'm much more of a lover than a fighter," Ryan tells her slyly.

"Oh are you?" she challenges, her attention solely on him with the comment.

"Definitely," he says to her confidently. "And I'd love to show you just how much of a lover I am when your shift is over."

"Wow!" Lizzy awes, jaw dropped with the very fast and clever line as she stands between the two men. "Bold. You're very bold, Mr. Ryan."

Ryan just shrugs in a way that says 'yeah, I know' and takes another sip of his whiskey.

"I'll see you two around," she smiles wide, looking between them both equally before leaving to help other patrons.

"I hope you like sleeping alone, bro," Ryan cockily tells Dean as he passes by him, patting his shoulder with confidence quickly.

"Easy there," Dean taunts lightly. "Little boys shouldn't try and play a man's game. I suggest you try not to be so sure of yourself 'cause you're gonna get your heart broken when she leaves with me later tonight." He tried to be more gentlemanly but this kid's arrogance is wearing him thin.

"We'll see, pops," Ryan laughs, walking away.

* * *

"So… you're only twenty-two?" Lizzy asks Ryan as a lull hits the bar. He came to order another drink and began making small talk, trying his hand at getting to know more about her in order to get what he wants in the end.

"Yes," Ryan answers, his fresh Glenlivet in his hands. He's taking this one slower. After several he's pretty tipsy but if he wants to make a night with Lizzy happen he needs to slow it down.

"That's kind of young," she comments, her worry clear as day.

"Oh, but I'm very mature for my age," he flirts with a big grin, both laughing at his remark.

"But you're still young."

"Please, you can't be more than a year or two older than me."

"That's sweet and all… but you know I am."

"Bullshit."

"Seriously, I'm twenty-six."

"No kidding," Ryan nods, having honestly pegged her at twenty-four tops. "Four years isn't  _that_  big of a difference I'll let you know."

"I guess not," Lizzy nods as she considers it. "But if I were to be honest with you, I don't usually go for younger guys."

"Oh no?" he asks and she nods her confirmation. "Why is that?"

"I like  _men_ ," Lizzy tells him truthfully, an edge to her tone. "I like a dude who's been there enough to really know what he's doing."

"You want a man-whore?" he sums up.

"Not exactly what I'm saying," she huffs a laugh. "I just don't like boys that haven't figure us women out yet."

"So that's what it is?" Ryan asks with her truthful moment. "Inexperience?"

"Oh yeah," she nods. "I mean, sure… you know how to operate a car when you turn sixteen but you only know the basics. After time and practice, however, you really learn how to get the best out of your car. You know how to treat her right, keep her purring."

"That is one hell of a metaphor."

"I know," Lizzy responds with pride.

"So that's why you've been eyeing that old guy all night?" Ryan challenges, an eyebrow arched as he sips his drink. Time to attack the competition.

To this Lizzy narrows her eyes. "You mean the slightly older than me but still not old at all guy?"

"However you prefer to refer to him as," Ryan waves off casually.

"Well… yeah. The guy sure does look like he knows how to  _drive_." She lifts her eyebrows once with the thought.

"There's a lot to be said about age and experience, I'll give you that," Ryan starts to rebut. "But I feel there's more to be said about just plain natural skill."

"And are you claiming you have said natural skill?"

"I might be…"

"So you're naturally gifted?" Lizzy says, clearly getting a kick out of Ryan at this point.

"Exactly what I'm saying." He flashes his brightest smile at her.

"Quite the boastful thing to declare…."

And she pauses when a song starts playing. A slow smile creeps across her face with the beginning guitar riff. She looks to Ryan and says, "Natural born instincts or not… the old guy is pretty slick."

She turns to look towards the juke box, knowing who she'd find standing there, and Ryan follows her eyes. They both see Dean leaning against the machine with a smirk on his face. He then points right at Lizzy as he lip syncs along.

_You make me dizzy, Miss Lizzy. The way you rock and roll._

"Jesus Christ," Ryan complains under his breath with the display. He can see Dean making his way over towards them already. Well played, old man.

Lizzy walks away from Ryan to grab a beer from the cooler. When she walks back to the open spot next to Ryan that she's sure Dean is headed for, the younger man sees that it's an El Sol. Dean's been drinking those all night. Shit. He might be losing.

"Nice touch there, Dean," she says with a giddy smile as she places the beer in front of him.

"Well, you do make me dizzy, Miss Lizzy," he quotes the lyrics of the song with her name in it. "And I do want to be your loving man."

"If you could only be so lucky!" she plays right along, flirting back shamelessly.

"Bought a scratch ticket on my way here 'cause I was feeling so lucky tonight," he playfully banters right back.

"Did you win?"

"Two bucks!"

"You're fucking rich!" Lizzy laughs.

"Dude, this song's as old as you are," Ryan tells Dean with irritancy. "Don't you know anything newer, grampa?"

"Whoa, hold on there, Ry," Lizzy speaks up before Dean can defend himself. "Never,  _ever_  underestimate the power of some good old fashion classic rock. The Beatles are just about the best thing that ever happened to music."

"They changed the path of rock and roll completely," Dean adds right in seamlessly. "They're probably the most influential band to hit rock music… maybe after Led Zeppelin, of course."

"Oh, totally after Zep," Lizzy agrees with him immediately.

As both Lizzy and Dean look at Ryan with surprise at his ignorance on the subject, he's just about ready to wave the white flag.

"Guess I need to expand my IPod collection a bit then."

"That you do, honey!" Lizzy smiles wide as she checks the clock on the wall. One in the morning. "And would you look at that." She smiles to the two men in front of her. "Quitting time."

As she walks away to grab her purse and coat, Ryan and Dean peer at one another in a quick and awkward moment of silence.

Lizzy makes her way around the bar and walks right to them.

"Time for a verdict," Dean winks confidently at Ryan before Lizzy stands between the two of them.

"Well it was a blast, you two," she tells them both. "You made my shift fun." She then turns to Dean only and takes his fresh beer out of his hands. She chugs down the whole thing as the two men watch on, grinning with the awesome display. She drops the empty bottle on the bar top for the closing bartender to take away. "Would you mind driving me home, Dean?"

"Mind?" he questions playfully, crooking an elbow in her direction so she can link her arm through it. "I'd be honored to."

"Such a gentleman," she grins before turning to Ryan. "Have a good night, Ryan."

"Thanks," he bitterly responds, downing the rest of his drink in one go. The pair walk away and head for the door as Donovan swiftly heads over to Ryan.

"She was just not that into you, huh?" Donovan taunts with glee.

"Fuck you, man," Ryan bitterly returns, pulling out his wallet.

"Dude, I told you before, you never had a chance with her."

"Salt in the wound, bro," Ryan grumbles right back as he slaps his credit card onto the bar in defeat. Drinks are on him it looks like.

"No, I mean it," Donovan laughs at his friend's expense.

"Dunn, you win, alright. Back off…"

"She's married."

Ryan's eyes burst wide open as he looks at his friend. "What?"

"Lizzy. She's married."

"Bullshit, dude."

"I swear, man. That chick is married."

"But she wasn't wearing a ring."

"I know. She took it off tonight."

Ryan looks to the doorway just as Dean escorts Lizzy through it, Lizzy turning to wave at Ryan just before she disappears.

"So she gets off on picking people up at work and cheating on her husband?" Ryan asks, never having gotten such a devious feel from Lizzy once.

"Sort of," Donovan smirks. "But she's not cheating. That Dean guy was her husband."

Ryan pauses and stares down his friend. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"About once a month Lizzy ditches her wedding rings when she comes to work. Then Dean come in without his ring and they pretend to meet for the first time. They then flirt all night and play some twisted game where Dean has to get Lizzy to go home with him."

"You're serious?" Ryan asks with utter shock.

"Very," Donovan laughs again with Ryan's face. "I mean, you have to admit they're pretty fucking fun."

Ryan doesn't answer that.

"Here," Donovan says as he slides Ryan's card back to him and plops his own down onto the bar. "It wasn't a fair bet. I'll take the hit."

"So they play this game all the time?" Ryan asks with still going disbelief.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Shit…"

"I know," Donovan shares the sentiment.

"Can you imagine what other fucked up shit they get into if they're willing to do that in public?"

"Probably not, no," Donovan says, having gotten to know the couple over the school year as Donovan's become a regular.

"God damn it," Ryan sighs as he looks back to the now empty doorway. "I think I'm in love."

Donovan laughs loudly and looks to the last bartender still on duty in the waning hours of the night. "Can you get us two shots of tequila? My buddy's heart just got broken and I think he needs it."

* * *

 


	47. May 12th and 13th (Part 1)

* * *

It's Saturday night, a typical one at that, and Dean sits in a local dive with Jim for a few drinks. Lizzy, Jim's wife Jenny, and few other women decided to have a lady's night so the two men went out for a couple beers and to catch up. With Jim's busy work life and his family it's been hard for him to get out. He and Dean had become pretty good friends over the year that Dean's been in this normal life of his. They golf some Sundays, have cookouts with their families… average Joe kind of stuff. And honestly, Dean kind of likes the guy.

"And thank God this is before Facebook, right? Because it'd be me and that goat all over the Internet…"

Dean huffs a small laugh. "I may not have gone but it sounds to me like everyone has their fair share of college stupidity."

"Some more than others," Jim cringes hard at the thought as he walks down memory lane of his crazier younger years. "Don't get me wrong, right? No complaints because I love my family. Jenny and Bren are my life… but if you'd have said to me, 'hey, you - fifteen years from now? Suburbia.'"

"Oh. Yeah." Dean shakes his head no at the idea.

"Right?"

"Believe me, I know," wholeheartedly agrees. He can completely commiserate with this feeling better than Jim might know.

"So, you've traveled around a lot, huh?" Jim questions, having been afraid to ask Dean more about his former life as Dean always seemed a bit off put by talking about it.

"Mm-hmm," he returns as he finishes a sip of his beer. "Yeah, my whole life, pretty much."

"And?" Jim peers at Dean hard, pressing his luck. Dean's been in the real, non-hunting world for a year now and Jim wants to know more.

"I don't know," Dean shrugs away, looking to avoid the subject.

"Come on," Jim prods. "You and Lizzy , you moved here, what, about a year ago?"

"Yeah, thereabouts," he nods in return, knowing exactly when they did in fact move to Massachusetts. It's been a few days over a year since Sam's been gone so he knows how long it's been without having to think.

"So… I've been buying you beers and playing golf with you for a year and I think that means you owe me at least a little bit of an explanation."

"Oh, no. There's not much to tell, you know?"

"Don't make me call bullshit on you, dude," Jim calls Dean out immediately and Dean knows he has to give the guy something at this point. He's been a good friend, a proven friend, for a while now. Jim deserves to know a little more.

"It's, uh... I lived on the road, but you know that," Dean starts. "And you know I was hunting."

"When did you start hunting?"

"Ha, technically… when I was four," Dean answers, taking a big swig of his beer.

"Really!?" Jim questions with shock.

"Yeah," Dean nods. "Something happened in my family when I was young and after that… it was hunting all the way. Grew up in it."

"Shit… I'm sorry," Jim now feels bad for prodding so much. That sounds shittier than shitty.

"Nah, it's fine," Dean half smiles off, not hating getting some things out, especially not to someone who's been a solid friend this past year. "And it wasn't all that bad. You get to help people. You get to work with a partner…"

"I could never work with Jenny like that," Jim shakes his head with sheer disbelieve. "How you and Liz could work together that closely for years… I'll never understand it.

"Well… yeah I did work with Lizzy for a few years there but… I had another partner way before I met her." Dean pauses, thinking about if he should say anymore. Eh, fuck it. "My brother… Sam." It's the first time he's mentioned this name to anyone besides Lizzy since his brother's been gone.

"You have a brother!?" Jim asks, shocked by this.

"Yeah… I had a brother." Dean has a hard time with the statement but he gets it out. Had. Past tense.

And Jim sure does hear that word loud and clear.

"Oh… damn. Dean, I'm sorry, man…"

"Nah, it's fine," Dean admits as it is fine. He should be able to mention his own flesh and blood like that and it be alright. "But, you know… ah, you have no idea what's out there. And you don't want to, trust me. That evil shit… it could take anyone down."

"Jesus," Jim says as the weight of this conversational turn hits him. "So when you and Lizzy moved here a year ago that was right after...?"

"Yep," Dean answers before swallowing hard and taking a long pull on his beer.

"And you've been out since?"

"Yes sir."

"Dean, I didn't think I'd be prying so hard here," Jim says, feeling awful.

"Wouldn't have said anything if I didn't want to," Dean answers right back, that being the truth. "And it was a dangerous life. We all knew that what we did wasn't safe and that a hunter's life expectancy is short… very short."

"But you're out now," Jim points out.

"I am out," Dean agrees, the feeling still slightly weird.

"And now, well, you're practically respectable," Jim jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah. Wow," Dean awes with the statement. It's true. "I guess so. That's kind of scary, actually."

"Thanks, guys," the servers interrupts them as she drops the check for their night on the table. She then smiles slightly to Dean, her fingertips dragging lightly up his bare forearm flirtatiously before walking away.

"No, thank  _you_!" Jim yells after her in jest as she just ignored him. "Well… I think she likes you."

"You think?" Dean questions right back, holding up the check with a name and phone number on it meant for him.

"What is it with you?!" Jim asks with sheer shock while grabbing the check for a better look. "Like, every time!"

"It's like chicks specifically dig unavailable guys," Dean mentions, ripping up the check as he clearly didn't want to call the girl… no matter how hot she may be. "If I'd know this I'd have been wearing a wedding ring every time I was looking for a quick fuck in my younger days."

Once outside the bar, Jim and Dean part ways and Dean makes his way to the Impala on the quiet street at one on the morning. Thank God tomorrow is Sunday. He's excited to have a free day to nurse the hangover he's going to keep working on once he gets home and to spend some time with Lizzy.

Lizzy. He hopes with all his might that she didn't go off and get too drunk. He wouldn't mind pulling in a late one with her in bed tonight…

And then he freezes when he hears a woman scream off in the distance. He knows he heard it but it's been so long since he's heard a cry for help that it almost didn't feel real.

But hunter instincts are a bitch to lose.

So Dean grabs his trusty Colt out of the Impala's glove box and a flashlight from the backseat floor. He then heads towards the abandoned building he's certain it came from.

* * *

"And no one's called about a missing person?" Dean asks into the phone as he converses with the local police department in front of his open laptop as he researches. The second he got home after finding those hideous claw marks in the empty hotel wall he went home and set himself up at the coffee table in the living room. The dispatch at the department confirms that no one has called.

"Hi baby!" Lizzy bright voice calls up to him from the downstairs foyer just like always and the front door slams shut. Cass, who had been sitting by Dean's feet, takes off instantly.

"No, this would have been today," Dean keeps prying, wanting to get his answers before Lizzy gets her clearly drunk ass up the stairs and sees him. Just from the way she shouts her greeting he knows she's a bit sauced. "So, no reports of anything around Vineland and Oak Street, near that hotel renovation?"

"Dean… you up there?" Lizzy calls up when he doesn't shout back down to her like usual. Lucky for him Cass intervenes. "Cassie! Hi, puppy!"

As he can hear her stalling by the front stairs with her beloved dog, he wraps up his convo.

"Uh, call it a hunch," he says as he hears her heals clicking their way down the hallway towards him. "Ha, yeah, I've been a cop for a long time. Okay, yeah."

"There you are!" she smiles wide and then gives him a questioning look when she sees him on the phone. Pausing while leaning on the doorway frame, she watches him get off the phone.

"No, I'll call you tomorrow," Dean plays it off with a smile sent her way. "You too, man. Bye."

"Who was that?" Lizzy questions him immediately, her arms crossed with her black wristlet hanging down from her wrist still.

"Jim," Dean lies immediately. He doesn't want to let her know just yet about the weirdness he's stumbled upon after the bar. She's too drunk right now for all that. "I'm just talking about going golfing."

"It's, like, two in the morning. And you  _just_  saw him."

"Yeah, but you know us guys…" he jokes away and tries to change the subject. He eyes her over once. "You're looking good tonight."

And with the complement Lizzy's hazy mind moves right on. "Why thank you."

"Mm, you're very welcome," Dean tells her, closing out all his searches and shutting the laptop. He then gets up and walks to stand in front of her. With his hands reaching for her hips he pulls her a little closer. "This is quite the dress."

It really was. It's bright blue, short, formfitting… it's perfect on her.

"Glad you like it," she says with a smile as she reaches up for a kiss, one that Dean happily gives her.

"The guys at club must have been devastated when you turned them all down to come home to your husband," Dean smirks and kisses her neck once.

"You know it," she grins out, her arms around his neck. "Well, all of them except for that one guy I took to the bathroom for a quickie…"

"You cheating on me, woman?" Dean jokes right back as he pretends to eye her suspiciously.

"Maybe," she jokes right back. "I mean, I love you and all but I do have needs, Dean."

"Do you now?" he asks, backing her up across the hallway towards their bedroom.

"Mmhmm," she nods, kissing him once more. "And sometimes you just can't satisfy them all."

"I think I'm supposed to take that as a challenge," Dean narrows his eyes down at her. "I am, aren't I?"

"Maybe," she says again before pulling him down with a hand to the back of his head and kissing him hard.

Dean pulls away first and grabs her by the hips hard. "Well, challenge accepted then."

He picks her up and tosses her onto their bed, her voice squealing all the way. Dean then growls at her jokingly and pounces on top of her.

* * *

"Mm, Sunday," Lizzy joys quietly as she starts to wake up that morning. She rolls over and cuddles right into Dean's side where he lays on his back, making him stir. As if on auto pilot he brings his arm around her frame and pulls her into that nook she fits in so well. "Morning, Hot Shot," she whispers to him.

"Shh," he shushes her instantly, wanting to still be asleep. She always gets up earlier than him and it was his one day off. They stayed up late the night before after he got a look at her in that dress. Fuck that. Sleep is all he wants right now.

"Shh yourself," she says with annoyance.

Dean then blindly reaches for her with his free hand and presses his fingertips to her face, trying a few times before finding her lips. "Shh. Sleep now. Talk later."

Hating to be shushed like this, Lizzy counters his attack.

"Ow!" Dean suddenly calls out and pulls his hand away, his eyes flying open to look at her with anger. Guess he was awake now. "What the fuck? You bit me?"

"It wasn't that hard, you baby," she brushes it aside. It really wasn't. She wasn't out for blood, just slight revenge.

"I can see teeth marks," he complains while examining his hand.

"And I can see a giant pussy in front of me. Suck it up, Winchester. You've been bitten by much worse before," she laughs at him.

"How'd I get stuck with such a mean bitch?" he offhandedly remarks.

"Easy. Mean bitches attract douche bags."

For that he gets his vengeance in the form of the best torture he knows against Lizzy.

"Fuck! Stop!" Lizzy shouts as angrily as she can muster through her laughing. As Dean attacks her, tickling her with not an ounce of remorse, she squirms and fights back as hard as she can from under the sheets. It's worthless. "Seriously… ah! Stop! I'm gonna pee!"

"That's what you get for waking me up too early on my day off!" Dean shouts back, continuing on with a grin pulling at his own mouth.

"I hate you!"

"You love me."

"Fuck you! No I don't! Ha!"

"Say I'm the most handsome man in the world and I'll stop."

"You're an asshole!"

"Do it," Dean smirks while watching her struggle.

"No! Ha!"

"Then I keep going," Dean says simply, never relenting for a second.

"Fuck…. You're the most handsome man in the world! Alright!? Stop!"

And Dean lets her go… immediately receiving a punch in the arm.

"You suck!" Lizzy says with anger though the smile on her face contradicts it completely as she runs out of bed and down the hallway. "I almost peed my pants because of you!" she shouts to him and then the bathroom door slams.

And Dean's left laughing in bed all alone. He nearly busts a gut every time she freaks out like that, tickling being her true kryptonite. And then she gets angry, and punchy, but it's a cute angry. And he can take a punch from her. Hell, he's deserved it every time she's done it.

Sitting there for a second, his laughing subsiding, he realizes something pretty huge. He just laughed. Not just laughed but he damn near bellowed at something. He can't remember the last time he laughed like that. Maybe it was that time with his best angel friend in the brothel as Dean did his best to get Cass laid for the first time in his multi-thousand year life. The angel bringing up daddy issues to a prostitute and getting them thrown out was easily the funniest thing he's seen in his life. That was two years ago now. It's been two years without laughing until his stomach hurt.

But he did so just now and that's the point. He's happy, or at least happy-ish. Life isn't terrible. Granted he's still a certain degree depressed every waking moment of his life and he'd still give anything to get Sam back, but his life is good. His wife is good. He has Lizzy and she makes everything worth it. He's seeing the light again and starting to think the future can be great for the two of them.

When the fuck did that happen?

Lizzy comes back into the room with a skip in her step and jumps into the bed right next to Dean. She sits Indian-style facing him with a wide, excited grin.

"What's this about?" Dean asks, knowing she's up to something.

Lizzy pulls his hand to her, palm up, and places something into it.

"It's my next pack," she says to him with a bright grin and when he looks down at his hand he sees a package of birth control pills. "I'm supposed to start it today but… it's May."

"It is May, isn't it?" Dean says more to himself out of sudden recognition. May was their deadline and it's officially up. With what she's bringing up his heart starts to pound with either fear or excitement. He isn't sure which. It's probably both.

"Sure is," Lizzy confirms what he already knows to be true. "So...?"

Dean just looks away from the pills and back up to her.

"We have until the time I normally take them to decide for good if I should actually start the next month of pills or not," she proposes.

"What time is that at?"

"Tonight. Eight o'clock."

"I was just about to say, eight o'clock," Dean quotes one of her favorite movies, knowing the decision is a big one but not being able to help himself.

"Ha-ha, Dr. Venkman," Lizzy returns, getting the reference immediately. "Look, I already know my answer but I've known my answer from the fucking day I met you. I just want to make sure you're fully on board. Really think this one through today, Hot Shot. Make sure you're totally ready for this."

"I will… even if I'm pretty sure I know my answer already too," Dean says, letting her know she isn't alone.

"Yeah?" Lizzy excitedly asks, not having been totally sure he'd be prepared for this life changing moment.

Thinking quickly over the reflection he just had in which he realized how good things are and how happy he actually is, this decision is surprisingly an easy one.

"Yeah," Dean answers with comfort, playfully tossing away the pack of pills before taking her hand in his and looking at her seriously. "L, I would love nothing more than to knock you up."

The cheek-breaking smile she has at that makes his heart swell.

"I would call you a romantic if you'd been able to say that in a nicer way," she jests, his word choice just so typically Dean.

"Aw, I'm sorry," he disingenuously apologizes. "Let me try again."

"Oh, please."

"L, I would love nothing more than to fuck a baby into you."

"Ooh, so much better!" Lizzy jokes right back and giggles a bit before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him. She crawls into his lap and settles there, grinning like an idiot. "We're gonna do this?"

"Yeah… we are," Dean tells her.

"Holy shit, really? We're gonna have a baby!?"

"I think we're ready, L. We're as good as we are going to get and we both want a family. Always have."

"You're so awesome," she says back before kissing him once more. "Baby, I'm so proud of you. You've come really far this past year and I know it's no picnic still, but you're back. My Dean is back. I was so scared that I wouldn't see the real you again."

"Ok, stop talking," Dean cuts her off right where she is, knowing how sappy it was about to get. So instead of listen to her he decides to distract her. "And take those clothes off. I want to get a head start on this whole baby-making thing."

* * *

It wasn't often that Dean took the Mustang out. He liked his car, scratch that, he  _loved_  his car so much more than even the beautifully restored 1964 Blue Mustang that it's crazy, but now and then he still stole Lizzy's car for small trips. He needed to make sure she was running well and since Lizzy knows nothing at all about cars she would never pick up on if something small was wrong.

So today, while out on a couple errands, he drives Lou's beloved vehicle and happily finds that Lizzy is doing her job well. The car is in great shape and purring like a kitten.

He left the house, which he hates to do on Sundays as he loves to be home with his wife all day and be lazy, because there was something he really wanted to do.

Dean is on a whiskey run.

After waking up today with Lizzy asking him to start a family with her, and after a wonderful lazy morning in bed together, he feels the need to show how much he appreciates her. She's about to do something extraordinary for him. She's about to try and give him the greatest thing she ever could.

And for that he wants to get her drunk.

Sure, it seems counter-intuitive, but it makes sense to him and he knows it'll makes sense to her too. If she's going to be pregnant then that means she has to give up drinking for a while. A long while. And she loves to get drunk.

So today Dean went out and bought her a huge bottle of Jameson. She loves her Jameson more than most creature comforts this world has to offer. He's never asked why, and maybe he should, but it doesn't matter. She needs to drink up now because it could be a while before she can again… if all goes according to plan, of course.

Coming to a stop sign just a few houses down from their apartment on his way home, Dean looks around the neighborhood and catches sight of something very similar to what he'd seen the night before in the hotel that's mid-renovations.

Claw marks. They're gouged across a telephone pole on the side of the street. His hunter's instincts once more take over and he pulls over on a side street. He gets out of the Mustang and heads to the marks to check them out. Running his fingers over the lines, the digs deep and clearly made by something very strong, he looks around. No one outside to see him.

Dean pulls out his handgun, which he decided to take with him today as he's been on high alert since the night before and feels there's something going on in their town, and follows a trail of similar marks to the back of a house. He makes his way to a small shed in a backyard and gets that familiar, Spidy-sense feeling.

He approaches the door of the shed with caution, gun aimed and ready. He reaches for the handle. With a deep breath, he yanks it open…

…to find a tiny Yorkshire terrier staring right back up at him.

"Fucking A," Dean shakes his head at his own stupidity as the dog runs off.

"Bella!" he hears a horrified voice call out and when he turns around he realizes where he is. He's in their smokeshow of a neighbor Alona's backyard. With a gun drawn. About to shoot her dog.

"Dean!" she shouts with horror as she scoops up her Yorkie and hugs it close. "What the hell!?"

"Hey… Alona," Dean says while shifting uncomfortably on his feet and tucking away his gun behind himself.

"Where you going to shoot my dog!?" she shouts with ongoing fear, cradling the tiny pet close.

"What!? No!" Dean quickly denies. "I… wasn't gonna shoot… you're dog. You're adorable… little dog." He's trying hard to appeal to her.

"Then what were you doing!?" she screams back to him.

"You know, I thought I saw a raccoon come back here," Dean starts to lie his face off. "I used to work in… pest control. And a raccoon wandering around during the day… that's like guaranteed rabies city."

"So you pull out a gun?" she asks with fire behind her words, still clearly very shaken and taking no comfort in his excuses.

"I have a permit if it makes you feel any better," Dean tries yet again.

"It doesn't!"

"I just was trying to help…"

"Whatever," Alona angrily says back and turns around. She heads back into the house and disappears with her dog, locking the door loudly behind her.

"Doubt she'll be hitting on me again anytime soon," Dean comments to himself with his hands on his hips, coming down from the whole moment. He then spies the yellowish powder on the floor of the shed. He bends down and touches it, smelling the residue left on his fingers.

Sulfur. Fuck.

What is happening around here?

* * *

When he came home he could hear the shower running and recognized how lucky he just got. He pounds up the stairs to the hallway and unlocks the closet that they keep all their hunting weaponry and items. He places her present on the floor and begins rifling through everything when the bathroom door opens and makes him jump.

"Hey," Lizzy greets him from the bathroom doorway suddenly.

"Just… getting a crowbar," Dean says quickly, the lie just so obvious he has to cringe with it the second it leaves his lips. He quickly slides the paper-bagged Jameson bottle into the closet with his foot so she can't see it.

"Oh, is that all?" she says with sarcasm, holding a towel tightly to herself. She heard him come in and fly up the stairs and had to come out and talk to him before jumping into the shower.

"Yep, just… needed it." Dean nods and reaches into the closet. He grabs an iron crow bar and holds it up for her to see. "Got one." He smirks with awkwardness.

"Drop the act, alright?" Lizzy says with a smile. "I just got a call from Alona down the street."

"Oh yeah?" Dean acts surprised. "How's she doing?"

"Did you almost shoot her Yorkie?"

He's busted and he knows it.

"Technically," Dean answers.

"What's going on, Hot Shot?" Lizzy questions him as she walks over to him with clear concern.

"L, honestly, it's nothing," he tries to make her feel better and runs his free hand down her bare arm.

"Yeah… I'm not really believing you," she answer back while looking up at him. "You think something's going on around here?"

"I just… the Spidy senses are tingling a bit."

"Okay," Lizzy nods. "What do you think it is?"

"Uh, well, at first I thought it was a creature of some kind," Dean comes completely clean. "But now… not so sure."

"Hm, alright, well…" Lizzy starts as she's clearly thinking everything over. "Let me just take a shower and you can go over everything with me. We can…"

"No," Dean instantly denies her assumption that she'd help him out.

"No?" she questions with surprise.

"Yeah, no," he reinforces.

"Why the fuck not?" she angrily questions him.

"Because…" Dean starts to answer but he really isn't sure why not. They've hunted a few times since technically getting out of the life so why he's against it now he can't quite figure out at first.

"I'm waiting…" Lizzy tells him to continue when he doesn't and Dean looks into her eyes. He really looks at her. Shit, he doesn't see her the same way as he did before. He's already changed his view of her after their conversation that morning.

"I don't want you getting hurt."

"I can handle a little pain, you know that," she smiles at him.

"I know, but now… it's different. I can't have you running around hunting," he tries to explain himself. "You can't get hurt anymore. I won't have it."

"Why?" she says with narrowed eyes.

"Because."

"Because I'm not just your wife anymore?" Lizzy grins when she figures him out instantly, just like she always does. "I'm more than that now, aren't I?"

"Huh?" Dean questions, not having gotten to the exact same conclusion as her quite yet.

"I'm your future baby-momma, Dean," she says slickly. "You don't want me getting hurt because I'm supposed to have your kid."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Dean complains instantly. He hates when she figures him out before he himself can. Compound that with the chick-flickiness and he's about to puke on his shoes.

"And I thought you were protective before…"

Dean shoots her a pissed off look.

"It's ok, I get it," she backs off and heads back towards the bathroom. "I won't come with. I'll call Jenny and we'll do girlie things, like go shopping or something. I'll get outta your hair."

Dean huffs a sigh of frustration but he doesn't argue. She won't stick around and that is after all what he'd been looking to get out of her.

"Just be careful, huh?" she asks him.

"Careful's my middle name."

* * *

"Alright," Lizzy announces as she walks into the living room once ready for her day to see Dean's got his father's journal out and laptop open at the coffee table. "I'm heading out."

"You have your gun?"

"Yes, paranoid, I have my gun," she rolls her eyes while reaching into her purse and pulling out a metal flask. "Holy water too."

Dean smiles to her, happy to know she's not being stupid.

"Seriously though, be careful," Lizzy repeats from earlier. "And if you need my help…"

"Which I won't," he quickly interjects.

"Just call me. I can handle it." She points to her stomach. "Not pregnant yet."

"I know," Dean assures her but still denies her attempts to help. "I'll see you later tonight."

She walks over and gives him a parting kiss. "I love you."

"Love you too."

Lizzy then leaves him be, ready to catch up with Jenny for the afternoon. The second the front door shuts, Dean's on his feet. He moves quickly to the closet and yanks the door open to begin filling a duffel with what he thinks he needs. Sulfur means demonic something so he grabs salt, holy water, some old salt round they had left…

And then something crashes in the kitchen a few feet away.

Freezing for a split second, Dean once more pulls out his gun and aims it ahead of himself. A few cautious steps towards the sound and he rounds the corner expecting to see a shattered glass or plate on the linoleum.

But instead he sees nothing. There's nothing there that could explain the crash.

Dean lowers his gun with sheer confusion. What the fuck is happening to him right now? He did hear that crash, he's sure of it. But with nothing there to make the sound he's at a total loss.

He turns around, still baffled, to get back to work and nearly runs straight into one of his biggest nightmares come back to life.

"Hiya, Dean," he's greeted by bright yellow eyes staring happily right back at him. "Look what the Apocalypse shook loose!"

As Azazel cackles with delight Dean is completely shocked to the core. The demon that ruined his life, ruined his father's chance at a happy and normal home, ruined Sam's ability to ever just be a person of no consequence in the world is standing in his hallway, inches away from him. Dean can't register this. It makes no sense.

"You have fun sniffing that trail? 'Cause I sure had fun batting you around," Azazel continues on, smiling wide.

"You can't be..." Dean starts, knowing this makes zero sense. He killed Yellow Eyes. He did. Shot him with the Colt. What the fuck!?

"Oh, sure I can!" the demon brushes off easily, leaning against the hallway's wooden banister with easy nonchalance.

"No," he refuses to accept this.

"Yeah, kiddo. The big daddy brought your pal Cass back, right? So why not me? Add a little spice to all that… sugar."

He hates how much sense Azazel is making.

Not hesitating for another second, Dean does the one thing he can manage to do in this situation. He raises his gun and shoots Azazel in the chest, right into the heart.

"Really? After all we've been through together?" the demon questions him with appall, not flinching with the assault. "You know, you got a great little life here. Pretty lady, can understand who you are because she's been there. And hell, she's even ready to make you a daddy. Ain't that just peachy keen, huh?"

Dean just stares with icy fear.

"I mean, come on, Dean," Azazel keeps going. "You've never been what I'd call brainy but you're not totally stupid. Did you really think you were gonna get to keep all of this? You had to know that we were coming for you sometime, pal. You can't outrun your past."

And at that Azazel starts to strangle Dean, his hand clamped tightly around his neck.

"You don't get to have this apple pie life, Hot Shot," Azazel continues to taunt, pushing Dean back into the hallway wall. "You were never meant to be this lucky."

Just as Dean starts to black out someone comes up behind Azazel. He reaches over the demon's shoulder and stabs Deal with a syringe.

As he falls to the floor, Azazel suddenly gone, Dean looks up at his savior as his vision starts to constrict and fade completely.

He passes out with one word rattling through his foggy and overly confused mind.

Sam.


	48. May 13th (Part 2)

* * *

His head hurts. His mouth is dry. He feels like a pile shit. Or hungover. Maybe both.

Inhaling deeply once, Dean tries to open his eyes and focus, not remembering falling asleep in the first place. And since when did their comfortable bed feel so horrible. A foggy figure across the room, the room that is certainly not his own, starts to come into focus.

"Hey, Dean."

Wrinkling his brow with sheer confusion over the familiarity of that voice, Dean sits up and stares at the stranger who isn't a stranger at all.

It's his little brother.

Stomach dropping to his feet, he's completely shocked. He can't really think, nor can he move, and the impossibility of it all hits him. This makes no sense. Sam is gone. Like gone gone. Gone for good gone. He can't be here. This was never going to happen.

"I was expecting, uh... I don't know, a hug, some holy water in the face… something," Sam very flippantly says to him, having been ready for an assault of any kind to be hurled his way the second Dean woke up. He's actually taken aback that he hasn't moved yet. The hunter version of Dean should have come at him. The brother version of Dean should have him locked up in a hug by now.

"So I'm dead? This is Heaven?" Dean tries to logic a bit. That's the only way he assumed he'd ever get to see Sam again.

"You're not dead, Dean," Sam laughs a bit.

"Shit, I'm dead," he keeps thinking he's right and stands up with growing panic. "I gotta… I have to find Cass. He needs to send me back down there. I gotta get back to L."

"Dude, take a breather," Sam calmly suggests. "Not dead, ok?"

"But Yellow Eyes…"

"Yellow Eyes?" Sam questions quickly, surprised that his mind manifested Azazel of all things. "That's what you saw?"

"Saw?" Now Dean's just confused.

"You were poisoned," Sam's matter of fact tone informs him. "So whatever kind of crazy crap you think you been seeing, it's not real. Sit down. Take a minute."

Dean sighs and relaxes for a quick second while he does actually sit down on the old cot. He didn't just up and die, leaving Lizzy alone with questions… especially today, especially with the decision they made together just that morning. But then again Sam's still here and if he himself isn't dead then…

"So, then, are you...real? Or, or am I still…"

"I'm real," Sam assures. He then gets up and heads to a small table in what looks like a room in a long abandoned house. "Here, let me save you the trouble." He does the usual drill; he slices his arm with a silver knife before chugging down a good helping of holy water that's been salted. "All me." He wipes his mouth. "That's nasty."

The tests were all clean. No sizzle. No steaming. No pain. He's human.

"Sammy?" Dean questions, standing up again slowly as he's coming to understand that this is real. This is happening. Sam is here.

"Yeah. It's me." Sam shares a small smile with him.

Fighting the urge to collapse into tears of intense gratefulness for whatever it is going on here, Dean marches himself across that room as swiftly as his feet will take him. He slams into Sam and pulls him in tight, Sam returning the sentiment right away.

He remembers when Dean came back years ago and how that reunion went. Sam knows how he's supposed to feel and even if he doesn't feel it he does his best to pretend he does for Dean's sake. He's gotten very good at pretending in the past year. He can pull this off.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Dean stops when everything overwhelms him. He backs away from the hug and looks at Sam in the eye. "You... you, you were…" He can't find the words. "You were gone, man. I mean, that… that was it. How the hell are you…?"

"I don't know," Sam shrugs at the question.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean, no idea. I, I'm just back."

"Well, was it God, or… or, or Cass? I mean, does Cass know anything about it?"

"You tell me," Sam says with pure anger. "I've been calling. Cass hasn't answered my prayers. I don't even know where he is. I mean, I was... down there, and then, next minute, I'm lying in that field, alone. It's kind of hard to go looking for whatever saved you when you got no leads. But I looked. I mean, believe me, I looked... for weeks."

"Wait, weeks?" Dean asks, once more his heart plummeting with Sam's words. "How long you been back?" He stares at Sam as its clear his brother doesn't want to answer the question. He tries again, growing more furious by the second. "How long you been back, Sam?"

Time to bite the bullet. Sam sighs and says, "About a year."

"About a year!?" Dean echoes with utter ire.

"Dean…"

"You been back practically this whole time?!" he begins to literally freak out. "What, did you lose the ability to send a friggin' text message?!"

"You finally had what you wanted, Dean," Sam smirks at how mad Dean gets.

"I wanted my brother! Alive!" That really is what he wanted, more than  _anything_. More than whatever Sam thinks he might have had going. "Lizzy wanted her brother!  _We wanted you_!"

"You both wanted a family," Sam calls Dean out immediately.

" _You're_  our family!"

"Not what I mean and you know it," Sam points out. "You have wanted that family life for a long time, maybe the whole time.  _I know you_. You only gave it up because of the way we lived."

Considering how Dean's day started there really isn't much he can rebut Sam with. Just that morning he was telling Lizzy he wanted to start the family they did in fact always want. Shit.

"But you had something, you had Lizzy, and you two were building something. Had I shown up, Dean, you would have just run off."

"I wouldn't just ditch L like that."

"Oh no?" Sam challenges instantly. "Then what would you have done?"

"I… I would've…" and Dean goes quiet. He has no idea what he would have done.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I am. But it felt like after everything… fuck man, you deserve some regular life. So does Lizzy."

Not able to have this conversation fully right now with his still running shock, Dean changes the subject. "What have you been doing?"

"Hunting."

"You left me alone, and you were flying solo?"

"Not solo. Well, not solo for a while now at least."

"What!?" Is the shock ever gonna end here?

"I hooked up with some other people."

"You? Working with strangers?"

"They're more like family." Sam assures. "You wanna check 'em out yourself?"

"What!?" Dean asks for what feels like the millionth time.

"They're here," Sam tells him as he heads for the side door of the room. Sam slides it open and walks through, Dean following behind him.

* * *

Once he's met Mark, Gwen, and Christian Campbell and reacquainting himself with his long dead grandfather after being introduced by his long dead brother, Dean is officially filing this one away in the weirdest fucking day of his entire life category.

"Well, this… this is, uh..." Dean tries his best to process it all. "No more doornails coming out of that door, is there? Like Dad isn't gonna come walking in here to complete this lovely Dean Winchester; This is Your Life shit, is he?"

At this Sam laughs a little. It was pretty funny. "As far as we know, it's Samuel, and it's me."

"Okay," Dean happily accepts. "So am I the only one here that, that thinks that this can't all just be fine?"

"Believe me, you're not. We just have zero leads on this one," Samuel assures his obviously frightened grandson. "I wanted to come get you, of course. Tried to talk your brother into it but Sam was adamant about leaving you out, so we did. Until this happened."

"Right… so, then you ended up in my apartment how?" Dean asks the both of them, still confused how they came to the rescue.

"I got hit before you did, few days ago," Sam explains. "Dosed up with poison.

"By?"

"Couple of djinn."

"Djinn?" Dean questions with surprise. "I thought those were… were cave-dwelling hermit-types. That's pretty exotic."

"Not anymore, it isn't," Samuel says. "These look like regular people. They can blend in. And all they got to do to kill you is touch you. Their toxins get in your system, all of a sudden you're hallucinating your worst nightmares, and pretty soon you O.D."

Dean turns to Sam. "Well, then how are you breathing air?"

"Samuel had a cure."

Eyes wide as he looks over to his grandfather. "You got a cure for djinn poison?"

"Oh, I know a few things. Stick around, I'll show you tricks your daddy never even dreamed of."

"Uh... Ok," Dean says cautiously, hating the idea that someone he knows so little about would know so much more than his very own father about hunting. John knew so much. He hates the way Samuel just chose to brag a bit. Brushing it off for now, Dean turns to Sam. "Why are these things after us?"

"After they came after me we were pretty certain that they were gonna go gunning for you next. I mean, you did stake one a while back. Figured you were next on the list. I convinced the group to head out to Massachusetts for a few days, keep an eye on you and maybe gets us a few djinn while we were at it."

And then it hit him like a ton of bricks.

"L!" Dean looks to his brother with wide eyes. "Lizzy! She could be back at the apartment by now. We haven't been hunting for a long time. If that thing comes back and she's not ready…"

"Dean, it's all right," Samuel tries to comfort him. "I already sent someone over there to watch her."

"Not good enough," Dean fears and turns back to Sam. "You got to take me home  _right now_."

* * *

"Lizzy!?" Dean shouts into the apartment the second he shoves the front door open. The heavy wooden, stain glass window laden door slams into the wall behind it with force and instantly Cass is running down the stairs to see what's going on. Dean flies up the staircase past his dog, Cass turning to follow his owner in a similar frenzy. He always followed along with his humans' emotions and seeing Dean like this he's equally panicked in a split second. "L!?"

Nothing. Dean trudges through every room, looking in and making sure everything is where it should be and that she isn't there.

And then he begins to truly panic. Instead of rationally think that in the waning hours of the day that she might still be out with her friend Jenny like Dean asked her to, he lets his mind wander to terrible places. They got to her, they poisoned her… Lizzy is somewhere dying slowly while on a monster acid trip. He's going to lose her.

Pulling out his phone while standing in the hallway at a loss, he dials her number. It rings once and from the downstairs foyer he can hear her 'Immigrant Song' ringtone start up. "L!?" he shouts again and runs to the top of the stairs.

"Hey!" she smiles brightly up to him from the bottom as she pockets her phone when she sees him, her other hand gripping several shopping bags. "Why's the front door open? And whose car is out back?"

"Where the hell have you been?" he asks her while pounding his feet down the stairs as fast as he can.

"I was out with Jenny. We went shopping," Lizzy watches him with growing wonder. "But you knew that already."

And without warning, he plows right into her, hugging her so tightly it hurt. And it scares her a bit.

"Dean, shit," her struggled voice comes out as he squeezes her. "What the fuck is this all about?"

Dean thinks quickly. He's no longer used to her being in trouble, being in the crosshairs of the evil scum roaming the Earth. He knows they'll both always have a target on their backs but once they were out of hunting he just figured most things that go bump in the night wouldn't give a shit about them. He hates this and he needs to make sure she's safe.

"Go pack a bag."

"What!?" she asks loudly, backing away from him and staring at him like he's nuts.

"We should go to Bobby's," Dean tries to lie knowing that he's not going get her to believe him. He tries anyways. "It's been months since we've seen the old man."

"Ok, bullshit," she calls him out. "What the fuck is going on here? You're totally spooked."

Dean sighs. "Look, there's something after me and you don't need to be collateral damage."

"Collateral damage from what?"

"Ah, well, from…"

And the sound of a new voice answers for Dean from its place in the front doorway behind Lizzy.

"A couple djinn."

As Lizzy looks up at her husband, Dean can see the shift in her expression instantly. Instead of worry for her husband's mental well-being on her face, she shows only utter, all-consuming fear.

Lizzy knows that voice, even if it was barely used. She doesn't need to see the man to know who it is instantly.

Seeing that she's placed Sam's voice already, Dean tries to make this a lesser blow for her.

"Relax," he says to her, a hand to each shoulder as she drops her shopping bags onto the hardwood floor. She's trembling already, eyes so wide they look like they're going to pop, and her breathing is already picking up in a dangerous way. "It's ok."

She just stares at him and shakers her head no.

"It's him, L," Dean tries to assure her as he glances at Sam behind her for a brief moment, pissed at the way he's chosen to reunite himself with her. "It's really Sam. Did the drill, he's here."

"What did you do?" she accuses him in her icy coated voice, ready to scream at him with fright for whatever it is he did to pop the Cage.

"He didn't do anything, Lizzy," Sam promises from behind her. "This wasn't Dean."

Lizzy exhales hard as she closes her eyes. It's really him. She slowly turns around and lifts her lids. There he is and she inhales sharply with the sight of him. Standing in her front door is her best friend, her brother, the man she's been trying to recover from losing for a full year.

"Oh… my God," Lizzy can barely get out as she stares at him.

"Hi Lizzy," Sam greets and forces a smile onto his lips. Really, he didn't care so much about her as he did Dean. He wants Dean alive and back in the game. This djinn attack was the perfect opportunity to make that happen for him. Lizzy, well, she wasn't as good as Dean. Sure, she could fight well and she's smart, very cunning and quick… but she's still weaker than he and Dean. He has no use for her but now he has to pretend he's happy to see her if he wants to get on Dean's good side.

"Sam?" she asks and blinks once, her tears falling down her cheeks immediately.

Sam nods and confirms he's there.

"I don't… I… what is this?" Lizzy turns around to look at Dean for answers, comfort, SOMETHING.

"We don't know," Dean calmly explains, knowing how far off the deep end Sam's already got her. "But Sam's here. He's really here. It's him, L, I swear."

Turning back to look at him Lizzy stares at Sam for a second. He looks like Sam… but doesn't. Something's off about him. Sam always has a soulful look in his eyes, something that made him childlike and just warm. It always was her favorite part about him. But it's not there. His eyes aren't deep like before. They're just another pair of eyes.

"No," Lizzy denies at first.

"Already did the tests, Lizzy," Sam promises as he rolls up his sleeve to show the knife slice from an hour earlier. "Dean's telling the truth. It's me."

Cautiously she steps up to him, looking up at his tall height and studying him. Maybe it was the Cage. Hell sure did a number on Dean and a whole year with Luci himself? Sam should be shattered and changed. That has to be it. That has to be why the glow in his hazel eyes is gone. It makes her sad to see the difference.

Reaching a hand up to his face, she presses her palm to his cheek. "Sam-I-Am?" she questions again, this time through a sob of grateful luck at getting to see him again.

Using his memory, Sam leans into her hand like he remembers doing before he was gone. "Yeah." He smiles.

"Oh, Sammy," she gives in and accepts that Sam is back. All she wanted was for him to be back anyways. She wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him hard. Sam brings his own arms around her frame, his chin on her shoulder as he leans down to her height. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine."

"Oh my God," she cries out, her grip on his too tight. "It's really you?"

"Cross my heart," Sam easily says in return.

"I missed you so much," she tells him, speaking into his ear as her arms pulls him in even more, making sure he's here and it isn't some dream. He's definitely here, solid and tangible. Sam is home. "I love you, Sam."

Sam just smiles a little more, awkward with how emotional she is. He forgot how strong her feelings can be sometimes. She's not going to be easy to deal with.

A growl comes clear from the top of the stairs. Lizzy and Dean both turn around to stare up at their dog that's standing on the top step, looking down at the stranger in his house that's touching his Lizzy and he bares his teeth in warning. His back is lifted and he looks ready to attack.

"Cass!" Dean shouts up to him, angry that he'd get so aggressive. He usually doesn't get so on edge with strangers. He may be weary of them, but react this badly? Never. "Dude, relax! Sam's good!"

"You have a dog!?" Sam damn near scoffs and pulls away from Lizzy to get a clear shot of the animal.

"Shut up," Dean says to his little brother, knowing that Sam knows how much he's never liked dogs.

"And you named him Cass!?" Sam actually laughs a bit and walks to the bottom of the steps. He studies the animal over with the entire staircase between them. They stare at each other for a quiet moment, Cass tilting his head to the side while relaxing, his now blank expression showing no anger but more curiosity. He looks as though he's studying Sam. "Ok, I take it back. That is definitely a Cass."

"I know, right?" Dean completely agrees.

"Cassie, it's ok," Lizzy calls to her beloved dog and with the name he makes his way down to her. He sits by her side, putting himself between Lizzy and Sam out of protective need. He licks her hand and looks up at her with confusion. She crouches down and wipes away her tears. "Sorry it's been such a weird day, Cass," she apologizes while petting him and showing him comfort. "Everything will be ok."

"Alright," Sam cuts into the moment, not an ounce of emotion on his face once more. "Let's go over everything."

* * *

"So some supercharged djinn are after you?" Lizzy questions while looking at Dean. The old trio is reassembled and sitting in the living room of Lizzy and Dean's apartment, discussing the issue at hand.

"Yes."

"And that's why you were all worried and freaked that something was around?"

"One of them got to Dean," Sam explains. "And I got here just in time before the poison really kicked in and the shit hit the fan.

"Well thank God for that Winchester last-minute timing," Lizzy notes, having noticed they were good at showing up at the nick of time. She looks solely to Dean. "And screw you pal. You should have just told me how weird things were instead of kick me out for the day. I could have been there to help you."

"Let's not open that can of worms right now, huh?" Dean suggests. "We have plenty of other shit to deal with first."

Lizzy sighs and nods. "Fair enough. So what's the plan?"

"We stake the place out here," Sam answers. "If they're coming for Dean then let them come. We'll be ready." He takes out three syringes filled with a white substance from his jacket pocket and places them on the coffee table. "And we have a backup plan if an attack gets by us."

"What's that?" Lizzy asks, never having seen such a weapon.

"Antidote," Dean answers for her. "It's how Sam saved me earlier."

"No fuck," she awes, picking one up and studying it over. "The hell did you come up with that?"

"It's from our grandfather," Sam tells her without thinking twice. Dean closes his eyes and sighs.

"Yeah, ah…" Dean starts but words fail him at first. "So Sam's not the only one who made it back."

"Uh… huh…" Lizzy drawls out, not ready for more shit to come her way.

"Our grandfather, from our mom's side… he's back too." Lizzy opens her mouth to question but Dean cuts her off. "And no, we don't know who did it to him either."

"He really knows his shit," Sam adds in. "Been working with him for a while and the old guy is impressive. You can trust him to help out here."

"Um, wait… you've…  _been_  working with him?" Lizzy questions with narrowed eyes, paying attention closely to his choice of words. "For a while?"

"Yeah."

"For how long?" Lizzy presses on and Dean knows the fury is about to explode from her with Sam's answer. He's been on the receiving end. It's horrifying.

"About a year now," Sam very easily answers.

"A  _year_!?" she makes sure she heard him right.

"L," Dean uses his warning tone but it's too late.

"Did you just fucking tell me you've been back for a fucking year!?" she screams as she stands up and marches to where Sam is sitting.

"Lizzy, calm down…"

But she doesn't. She slugs Sam straight in the jaw as he asks her to relax.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" she shouts and winds up to hit him again but Dean grabs her wrist and pulls her away. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

"Jesus…" Sam complains, rubbing his jaw instantly while shocked by her still there strength. Maybe she hasn't changed all that much. Maybe she still is a hunter deep down in there somewhere.

"I have cried almost every day since you've been gone!" she continues on, fighting and swinging against the arms around her waist holding her back. "Dean almost drank himself to death because of you! He almost got himself killed while grieving your death and you've been around this entire time!?"

"You want to hear my explanation or you just wanna beat me up a little more?" Sam very flatly asks.

"I want to fucking kill you dead!" Lizzy kicks and fights, still trying to get free and seriously hurt the man for his neglectful and deceitful ways. "How could you do this to us, you asshole!?"

"I wanted you to be happy…"

"Fuck you!" she shouts back. "Do I look happy!?"

"You need to calm the fuck down," Dean says low into her ear, immediately making her stop fighting him. She trusts her husband more than her own self and if he asks her to relax then she knows she should. "Just listen for minute and hear what he has to say.  _Use words_."

Dean puts her down once she's stopped scrambling and she stands still. Dean lets her go when she shrugs harshly out of his hold and she doesn't advance on Sam thankfully but her glare alone could kill him. "If you wanted us happy you wouldn't have stayed away. All you had to do was tell us you were alive…"

"And ruin your lives? No way," Sam answers back. "Lizzy, this is a home. A real home. You and Dean… you have a life that's safe and good. You look like you've been happy here. You've managed to find something real and positive and that's more than any hunter's ever managed. I didn't want to take Dean away from you."

She glares at Sam. "And why would you assume he'd ditch me?"

"Because he would," Sam shrugs. "You know Dean well, really well. But I'm his brother. If it came down to it you and I both know who he'd stick with."

"Sam!" Dean shouts with appall at his brother's hurtful words.

"Can you deny that?" Sam challenges Dean immediately, wanting to know if he is wrong. He's sure he's not.

"Don't you dare make him pick between the two of us!" Lizzy sternly warns him, her right fist itching to fly with his words. "That's completely unfair and you know it!"

Sam just stares at her a moment, knowing that maybe he went too far. "Point is, I didn't ever mean for you to find out I was back. I didn't want to be the thing that killed this life for you."

Lizzy just nods, giving up. She's emotionally defeated. They could tell her that the sky is turning purple tomorrow and she wouldn't question it at this point.

"So," Sam loudly says, ready to move on. "I'm gonna get the crew and they'll come by and get the place ready. Then we can stake out the joint and wait the djinn out." Sam forces a smile onto his lips before abruptly leaving, ready to get to work.

Once alone, Lizzy just looks over at Dean with such a mix of emotions he couldn't even begin to sift through them all. She's overwhelmed.

"I know," he tells her, feeling just like her. He walks down the hallway to open the closet and retrieve the bottle of Jameson he purchased for her earlier. He comes back to the living room, drops two glasses on the coffee table, and pours a solid amount of whiskey into each.

Lizzy doesn't hesitate. She grabs the glass and in a few big gulps the pour is gone.

"Thanks," she sighs and places the glass back onto the table before sitting down on the couch, her head in her hands.

"I would ask how you're holding up but I'm getting the picture," Dean tells her, pouring her another glass. She picks it up and he quickly warns, "Go easier this time. Monsters are coming."

"And boy how I've missed that," she acridly returns with and doesn't listen to him. She downs the glass once more.

"Look, L, I'm sorry for all this…"

"Well I'm assuming you didn't do anything wrong here so don't apologize." She watches as he sits down on the couch next to her, whiskey in hand and back heavily slumped. "I mean, you didn't… right?"

"I did  _not_  bring Sam back," Dean vows to her and she nods her head, accepting it.

"How are  _you_  through all this?"

"Fucking awesome," Dean sarcastically answers, a swallow of whiskey downed.

And then she stays quiet. She doesn't know what to say. This whole thing is surreal and shocking… and game changing. Very game changing. She might not be ready for how game changing it's going to be.

Lizzy looks up at the clock, sees the time, and then silently gets up. She disappears for a moment and returns, sitting back down and placing her new pack of birth control pills they decided she wasn't going to take earlier that day onto the coffee table.

"It's eight o'clock," her depressed tone informs him.

Dean makes a face of pure pain while looking at the pack.

"I went out and bought that bottle for you earlier," Dean confesses as he nods at the Jameson on the coffee table. "I figured that if things were going to go our way then you wouldn't be able to drink for a while. Thought you should enjoy while you could." He stares down at his glass. "So much for our way, huh?" He takes down the rest of his whiskey.

"This is over, isn't it?" she questions while looking over to him from her seat.

"What's over?" Dean questions her.

"This!" she says while waving her hand around, the tears collecting along her bottom lids. "All of it."

"No," Dean strongly denies even though he isn't sure he can promise that.

"It is," she cries a little, her heart breaking completely. "Our lives are not gonna stay this way."

"They can," Dean tries to assure her as he takes up her hand. "We don't have get back into it just because Sam's back, not if we don't want to."

Lizzy gives him a face of disbelief. "Yeah right. Sam changes… everything."

"It doesn't have to," he reminds her. "If he wants out then great. We'll help him set himself up…"

"Sam doesn't look like he wants out," she points out to him. Dean knows she's right. He's very oddly into hunting still.

"Then if he wants to hunt, then let him hunt. He's been doing it for a long time without me already."

"You can't stay here with me if you know he's running around out there," she already knows. "You wouldn't know how to do that."

"But I want to do that," he tells her, meaning it. "I want to be here. Right here. With you."

"I don't question that," Lizzy honestly tell him. His heart will always be wherever she is.

"We can figure this all out," Dean tries to be positive. "There's got to be a way to make this work."

Lizzy rolls her eyes as she doesn't believe him.

"But we can't make this work for us  _right now_ , can we?" she asks him. "Monsters on our asses all over again… it's not safe." A tear rolls down her cheek and Dean's voice disappears. He squeezes her hand a little harder but says nothing. "We can't bring a child into our lives if it's gonna be like this. You know I'm right."

She drops a hand over her eyes as the loss of promise crashes over her. Everything she's always wanted, everything they've worked so hard for, is going right back onto that old, overused backburner. This blow is devastating.

"I'm sorry," is all Dean can get out before pulling her towards him. He hugs her in tight, feeling the same loss of hope and excitement. It's replaced with uncertainty and pure dread.

"I just wanted it so bad," she cries against him.

Dean nods. So did he.

"Why?" she chokes out. "Why, after everything…  _why_?" She looks at him. "We were right there."

"We'll be there again," he says to her from the bottom of his heart, his fingers brushing away her tears. "We will. And when we do that kid's not just gonna have some awesome parents but an uncle to boot. This is a good thing." He really does think it is.

She takes a deep breath and sits up away from him. Without hesitating, she picks up the pack, pushes out the first pill, and pops into her mouth. She immediately downs it with a sip straight from the whiskey bottle before she can think twice and stop herself. The second it's done she wishes she could throw it right back up and change her mind.

She wipes her eyes once it's over and tries to compose herself. There were people coming into her home soon and she doesn't want to look like the sobbing mess she currently is. She pushes the loss of her future away to the back of her mind for another time and takes a deep breath.

"Well, back to square one, huh?" she says heavily and gets up, heading for the weapons closet to prepare as Dean's left on the couch feeling more guilty than he's ever felt in his life.

And that's saying a lot.

Lizzy doesn't see Castiel standing by silently as she passes him, his form cloaked from the humans in the room. He observed the conversation carefully, all the while feeling the effect of this harsh decision they had to make together.

That morning he watched two people, madly in love and ready for the future, make the choice they've been destined to make with such happiness that he was rooting for them already. The angel has been working for and waiting for this point in time his whole existence and it finally arrived. He was going to see Lizzy play her part and do it beautifully. He viewed Dean as he went out to get Lizzy a gift to show his true appreciation for her. They were going to be perfect.

And now he observes them again, this time broken and pitifully sad, as they erase all that work, all that effort and development, in one single action.

Castiel wants to scream at them, tell them of the mistake they are making and the consequences of their decision. But he doesn't. That would ruin the plan completely and he can't do that.

Worst of all, this is his fault. He brought Sam back which lead to him coming back into their lives along with a whole lot of trouble. He's to blame on this one.

Now Castiel wishes he never let himself become so entangled with these people. He cares about them and doesn't want to deceive or trick them.

But what choice does he have? He's had one job to do on this planet and he's completely screwing it up.

* * *

 


	49. May 13th-14th (Part 3)

* * *

She's completely irked. There are strangers in her home, poking and prodding through her things in order to set up an attack and they are clearly judging her non-hunting ways as they do. Fuck them.

This day has been complete shit and she's ready to pop.

"Huh, I love this one," Gwen sarcastically states as she picks up a Britney Spears CD out of the collection of CDs on a shelf in the living room. She peers at Dean with a snide smirk. "Yours or, uh, your wife's?"

"It's mine," Lizzy darkly answers for him as she stride quickly to Gwen and snatches it sharply from her. No one shits on her Britney.

"You have wonderful taste in music," the hunter caustically returns with quite a bite.

"And you have quite the mouth on you," Lizzy returns while glaring at the woman, using the few inches she had over her to try and impose a threatening stance, moving far too close to Gwen for comfort. "Better watch out before someone gets pissed off and punches it shut for you."

"Lizzy, back off," Sam calls out to her. "Gwen's just messing with you."

"This isn't really the fucking day for messing with me, Sam," she spits back to him.

"I know, I'm sorry about that," Sam apologizes as genuinely as he can and Lizzy marches out of the room. He then looks to Gwen. "And be nice, huh? They've been out for a while… and rightfully so."

Dean smiles at Sam's standing up for Lizzy like that but before he can mention the kindness he sees Mark taking the photo of he and his mother off the wall to look more closely at it.

"Hey," Dean calls out and grabs the frame back from him. "Do me a favor… don't touch that."

"Golf?" Sam calls from the corner of the living room where Dean had already taken out his clubs for his scheduled tee time tomorrow morning with Jim when they were going to play hooky from work for half a day. Sam picks up a driver from the bag and looks to Dean with shock. "Really?"

"It's a… it's a sport." Wow, he certainly wasn't prepared to defend his quaint little normal life to hardened, still working hunters today. Not at all. Fuck this.

Dean moves swiftly down the hallways to the bathroom, pulling the door open quickly and stepping inside. He needs to get away from everything.

"Can't hack it out there either?" Lizzy asks, sitting on the closed toilet, watching Dean slam the door shut behind him.

He leans his back against the door and drops his head heavily back onto the old wood with closed eyes.

"What the fuck…" Dean nearly whispers as he tries to compose himself.

"I hate this," Lizzy meekly tells him and when he open his eyes he can see the uncomfortable fear in her body language.

"So do I," Dean makes sure she knows. "But we have to…"

"It's like watching our old life slamming into our new one in a head on collision." Lizzy sighs and rubs at her face with the stress. "Now I'm just hoping that the new life is the one that crawls away from the wreckage."

"Come here," Dean says to her quickly and takes a step away from the door. He holds out his hand and pulls her onto her feet before hugging her tight. They stand there, sheltered in their bathroom, and find what little solace they can in their mutual misery.

Until a knock on the door interrupts them.

"You two ok in there?" Samuel's voice asks them and Lizzy backs away first. Dean then sighs before opening the door.

"We're fine," Dean answers, Lizzy standing by his side with her arms crossed and her stance off, conveying how uncomfortable she is with everything.

Samuel nods and accepts the half-truth before turning his attention to Lizzy. "I'm sorry we're invading you're space so much."

"We do what we have to do," she shrugs it off coldly.

"And I'm sorry that we didn't get to meet under better circumstances… considering you are a part of my family and all from what Sam's told me," Samuel smiles, truly meaning it. He's taken a shining to her instantly. He isn't sure why, but he likes her. "And you have a nice little place here."

"What… you gonna call me a soccer mom in training now?" And she instantly regrets the words she says to him. She wanted to be a soccer mom if she was being honest.

"'Soccer mom', huh?" Samuel laughs a little and walks across the hallway to the kitchen, Lizzy and Dean following him. "Well, I'll have to look that up on the 'intranet.'"

Lizzy cringes. "I forget how long you've been gone for."

"Oh no, it's totally fine. I'm picking it up as I go." He leans back onto one of the counters and looks over the two of them, both completely thrown and seeming quite upset right now. "You know, believe it or not, I get it. You want a normal life." He focuses solely on Dean. "Your mom wanted a normal life, too. You remind me of her, actually. The attitude, for one thing."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Dean says back quickly.

"Please do," Samuel returns with before mentioning, "And I think you must have found yourself something real in this one. I like to think you wouldn't give my daughter's possessions away to just anyone." He nods at Lizzy's wrist, referring to Mary's charm bracelet.

Lizzy smiles small. "I've worn this every day since Dean gave it to me years ago. I know how much it means to him and so its meaning is pretty huge to me too."

"A smart mouth one second, ready to fight the next, then a sentimental moment right after?" Samuel laughs as he sums up what he's seen from Lizzy. "Forget what I said before. _You're_  the one who's a lot a like my Mary."

Glancing up to Dean for a second, she turns back to Samuel and echoes Dean's sentiments. "Then I'll take that as a compliment."

"It's the best one I can give," Samuel smiles at her warmly before realizing they have to move on. "Sam tell you guys what we been dealing with the past few months?"

"No, not really," Dean answers. They've barely had time to catch up at all.

"I've never seen anything quite like it. Been working 'round the clock."

"What's going on?" Lizzy pries out of both hunter's instincts and sheer curiosity.

"We don't know," Samuel tells her. "But whatever it is, it goes way past a couple of djinn acting off. Nocturnals attacking in broad daylight, werewolves out on the half-moon, creatures that we've never even seen before. We don't even know what they are. I'm knee-deep in half-eaten human hearts and exsanguinated 10-year-olds and it's all making me… uneasy."

"So what's the working theory?" Dean wonders, fully engrossed in how nuts the evil world has become while he's been living the good life. Has all this really happened right under his nose?

"You tell me. All we really know is it's all hands on deck. We're counting on each other right now. That's how it is with Campbell's." Samuel swallows hard, knowing what he's about to say might ruin this little dream life of theirs but again, it's crazy out there and something big is happening. He needs every hunter he can get. "We need you… both of you."

Lizzy's personal nightmare is coming true. As the pit in her stomach grows by the second she realizes this is exactly what she feared with Sam's return. The life sucking her husband right back in. Her current life is over. She only got one year and now it's over.

"Look, I hear you, but..." Dean starts to deny any possibility of their return to hunting but Samuel stops him.

"You don't know what you're part of, Dean. You know, you had ancestors hacking the heads off vamps on the Mayflower. What I'm saying is that we're your blood. And we're out there dying, trying to get in front of whatever this is. Maybe not the best time for golf."

"It's not about golf, Samuel," Lizzy's quiet voice tries to appeal to him. "It never was. It's always been about life… and having a good one and having a family of our own." She chokes back her need to cry. "It's always,  _always_  been about family."

"Family has been my first priority too…" Samuel tries to explain himself but Lizzy stops him.

"And hunting and family are tied into one neat, unbreakable package for you," she keeps going. "But it isn't for me, and Dean doesn't want that for us. Family to us means not exposing our future children to monsters. It means not letting them ever know what hunting is. We want a safe, happy, regular life with our  _own_  family. And I'm not willing to live any other way than what I have been for this past year because of how much I want that. Not anymore."

Samuel understands her now. He's heard this argument before. "Kiddo, now I wish Mary had the chance to meet you. She'd have loved you."

"God I hope so," she seriously answers as she knows enough about Mary to know she tried her damnedest to have what she wanted and protect her family. With her words Dean silently slips his hand into hers, squeezing and showing his support.

"So you get us for right now," Dean finished her thought for her. "We'll take care of this whole djinn mess but after that… we're out. We aren't hunters anymore."

Knowing he's not about to give up this easily on two possible assets to the hunting community, Samuel assuages them for now. "Fair enough."

"So what's the plan?" Dean quickly asks, moving everything forward as quickly as possible while Christian enters the room.

"Well, right now, we stock up, get set," he answers.

"So you're saying there is no plan," Dean sums up, Lizzy huffing a laugh at his side. They may be out of hunting but that doesn't mean they forgot how.

"We'll find 'em," Christian promises with irritation. "Just got to be patient."

"Yeah, ok. Oh, here's an idea," Dean starts, the sarcasm already oozing from his voice. "Why don't we go kill the sons of bitches that broke into my home?"

"Relax, Dean," Christian smiles slickly, his superiority obvious. "We got it handled. Djinn are hard to draw out. Now, you've been out of the game for a while. Leave it to the professionals."

He glances at Lizzy quickly, her smile giving him the go ahead to embarrass this guy hard.

"Yeah. Sure. Tiny suggestion… you see, djinn are easier to draw out when you got bait. They want Sam and me. They know where I live. Now, I haven't been hunting in a while, but I'm gonna stick my neck out and guess that's a pretty good place for us to start."

Lizzy huffs a laugh as Samuel smirks with pride in his grandson.

"See?" Dean confidently keeps it up. "It's almost like I'm a professional."

"Eh, almost," Lizzy continues to jest with him and he grins right back at her.

Christian isn't grinning, however.

"So by my estimation, everybody's got to clear out."

"What?" Christian asks, not believing that as necessary.

"They're not gonna come in here until me and Sam are alone." Dean then looks at Lizzy, her expression silently telling him already she's not leaving.

And Samuel isn't having this either. "So, what, I'm supposed to leave you here with no backup?"

"Dean's right," Sam agrees with his brother as he joins them in the kitchen. "They're smart. They'd wait 'til they weren't outnumbered."

Samuel sighs. "All right, we won't be far. You call when they come, you hear?" Sam nods in agreement. "All right, pack up," he says to the rest of the room. "We're out of here. Lizzy, I know you don't know us well yet but we have room for you too, hon."

"Oh no, thank you, but I'm not leaving," Lizzy politely refuses his offer.

"Oh yes you are," Dean rebuts her instantly. "You're going with them."

"And there's that fatherly ordering around that I just love so much," she bitterly says to him and Sam laughs aloud.

"Shut up, Sam," Dean angrily spits, falling right back into the usual routine they always had.

"Sorry, I just forgot how funny she could be," Sam has to say, thinking she really is.

"Dean, this is my home too, ok?" Lizzy tries to logic him. "And you're my fucking husband. I'm not leaving you here if they're gonna attack you, not if I can help out."

"But they won't attack, not if you're here," Dean reminds her. "They aren't gunning for you. You gotta ditch."

Gritting her teeth with stubborn anger, she doesn't respond.

"You know I'm right," he tries to grin small.

"I hate when you're right," Lizzy defiantly answers back. Still, Dean can tell she's going to leave like he needs her to and he smiles.

"Get the fuck outta here," he says with a smirk as he playfully nudges her shoulder.

"God, I fucking hate you," she says back with the hint of a smile.

"I hate you more," he responds while pulling her chin up to meet his lips. He kisses her once to reassure you. "I got Sam here and you can charge in with that lovely fury of yours once we call for back up. We'll be fine."

"Just be careful," Lizzy asks of him, kissing him once more. "Don't get hurt."

"Git," he winks before smacking her ass to start her on the way out the door.

Lizzy smiles at Sam really quick and she leaves with the rest of the newly-met family.

Once they're left just the two of them, Dean shifts awkwardly on his feet. It's been so long, it's been a year of Sam hiding away from him… it's weird. And he hates how awkward he feels around his own brother right now.

"How the hell did you get that back?" Sam asks and nods to Dean's chest. Out of confusion Dean's hand comes up and he feels the pendent. It's the necklace Sam gave him for Christmas as kids, the one he threw away after being thoroughly disappointed by his brother after their heaven trek.

"Oh, ah… well, here's a shocker. Lizzy took it out of the trash after I tossed it."

"Should've known," Sam shakes his head.

"Yeah, me too," Dean agrees. They both should have assumed she'd do something like this. "She gave it back after you took the big dive."

"Thoughtful," Sam says breezily enough.

"I thought so."

And it grows oddly quiet once more.

"You okay?" Sam asks, reading Dean's body language immediately.

"Oh, yeah."

"Yeah?"

"No," Dean quickly corrects, shocked that Sam didn't pick up on the sarcasm. "This is... ha, this is crazy. I mean, you, Grandpa. Whoever brought you back..."

"They don't want to be found," Sam assures.

"Yeah, I get that. But who are they, and what do they… what do they want? Why?"

"That's a good question."

Eyeing Sam over for a quick second, Dean decides to check up on his little brother. "Do you remember it?"

"What?"

"The Cage."

Sam nods and sighs. "Yeah."

"You want to…"

"No," Sam instantly refuses.

"Well, if anybody can relate," Dean tries again, remembering everything from his own hell trip. He'd love to help Sam, even if he refused Sam's help himself when he personally came back.

"Dean, I don't want to talk about it," Sam explains. "I'm back. I get to breathe fresh air, have a beer, hunt with my family, see you again. So why exactly would I want to think about Hell?"

Dean nods. "I can understand that."

"Man, I'm more worried about you than you should be worried about me," Sam says with a smile.

"Why!?"

"Look at you," Sam smirks. "You're a working stiff."

"Dude…"

"You have a wife and a home… and the world is going to shit. You go fix some cars, grab a beer with friends, and come home to have dinner with Lizzy when all the while it's pandemonium out there. I think you should come back."

"No," Dean refuses quickly though he's beginning to feel awfully torn. He's curious about what's going on out there. His instincts are to jump in the Impala with Sam and go right now. But his heart wants to stay put, live well, have that family, and be with Lizzy.

"At least think about it," Sam asks of him. "I mean, this is nice and all but you gotta stop playing house sooner or later."

"You really think that's all I'm doing here?" Ok, that one made him mad.

"Honestly, I don't know what you're doing here," Sam answers without having to think. He doesn't get the whole domestic life. "All I know is this; you've always put family first. I'm family."

"So is Lizzy."

"True, but I'm blood."

"Wow is that unfair…" Dean starts as he hears something from outside. He looks to the sidewalk and sees his neighbor, Alona, being attacked by a djinn while walking her small dog. "Shit."

He takes off for the street, leaving Sam in the apartment by himself. By the time he gets to the street it's quiet, no Alona to be found. Then he hears the little Yorkie barking. He follows the sound to find it yipping away at Alona's body as it lies still in the bushes of a neighbor's house.

"No," Dean worries out loud as he pulls out one of the antidote syringes he got from Samuel. He then crouches down to check her pulse. Nothing.

And suddenly Dean's grabbed from behind. He tries to fight back but whoever got him is stronger than he is. He drops the antidote as he struggles but he's held in place with no way out. Maybe Lizzy was right… he should have been going to the self-defense center more often. He's out of fighting form.

"You made it through that last trip…" He hears a voice start speaking. Turning his eyes towards it he sees the bartender from the night before when he was having drinks with Jim just as she stomps her foot onto the syringe and breaks it. "So how about a big, fat double dose?" She grabs his face hard, her poison extending through the touch quickly. The djinn behind him grabs his forehead and adds to the poison coursing through him. "Bad news… it'll kill you. The good news? At least you'll go fast."

Eyes rolling back in his head, Dean feels the effects instantly. His body begins to drop to the grass.

"That's for our father, you son of a bitch."

After finding his focus once again, Dean struggles to his feet while out on the neighbor's lawn. He can barely see straight, barely walk, but he tries anyways. He has to go warn Sam that the djinn are probably on their way to him right now.

By the time he makes it to the edge of his property, he can see Lizzy walking up to the front door of their apartment, her workout bag on her shoulder and she unlocks the door without a care in the world.

"Lizzy!" Dean shouts to her, to stop her from going inside the house and straight towards the djinn, but she doesn't react to his voice. Stumbling toward their home he tries again. "L! Lizzy, stop!"

His wife disappears into the building, the door shutting behind her, and he panics. He does his best to make his way over to the apartment to help her and when he looks up to the movement in the bedroom window he sees Azazel's yellow eyes looking right at he. He smiles, waves his hand, and walks away.

"No! Lizzy!" she bellows as loud as he can manage but the poison claims him. He starts to black out again and falls backwards…

…onto the bed he and Lizzy share every night in the middle of their bedroom.

"What the hell…" he looks around at the sudden change of scenery. Everything seems fine, in its usual order, but when he tries to get up he can't. He's stuck there, lying on his back in the middle of the bed. And then it all goes to shit.

"He's perfect, isn't he?"

Looking sharply to the left with the sound of her voice, Dean's greeted with the sight of Lizzy smiling so happily at him while standing over a wooden crib. She's wearing a white nightgown just like the one his mother wore the night she died and it gives him a scared feeling deep in his gut.

"I swear he looks more like you every damn day," she tells him with such pride, a hand on the edge of the crib as he can hear the sound of a baby crying. She reaches into the bed and picks up the blanket bundled infant, holding him close to her. "Which sucks because pretty soon he's not gonna look like me at all!"

He keeps quiet, just watches as Lizzy paces the room, talking softly to their son and trying to put him back to sleep. When she turns her back to him he gets a glimpse of their supposed son over her shoulder. She's right. The big, expressive eyes that are still slightly blue but showing promise of change to a green color, full lips that are pouting with his cranky state… aside from the little bit of dark hair he has on his head he looks a lot like Dean.

"Why don't you let me take him for a while, mom," a voice cuts through the happy moment. Dean looks over to the doorway in time to see Azazel there, snapping his fingers once. When he does the baby is in his arms and Lizzy is being flung across the room, slamming back-first into the bedroom wall.

"Lizzy!" Dean shouts to her as she begins slowly being dragged up the wall. He knows what this is. He knows exactly what this is.

"Hey there, kiddo," Azazel sweetly greets to the baby boy in his arms, unwrapping the blanket around him to get a clear shot of him.

"You stay away from him!" Dean shouts with utter fear to Azazel as he can hear Lizzy's fear in her worried voice.

"Dean, do something!" she cries out to him in a panic.

"Lizzy!" Dean yells back, seeing her make it to the ceiling and being helpless to do anything about it. He switches his focus back to the yellow eyed demon as he has his slit open wrist held above Dean's son's small face. "Don't!"

"Drink it," Azazel coos to the child, his blood dripping into the infant's mouth.

"Don't let him do it!" Lizzy screams with fright, looking at Dean for help. "No! Dean, stop him!"

Azazel smiles wide while looking down at the now doomed child. "There's something else, something bigger for this one." He peers at Dean. "There's something's coming for this one, and you can't stop it. It's all your fault."

"NO!" Dean bellows out and fights to get up with no luck at all.

"This is your fault," Lizzy cries to him before yelling out as a blood stain begins to grow across her stomach on the white nightgown. "I just wanted to be happy."

"Lizzy," Dean tells her quickly. "I'm sorry."

"I should have run away the day that I met you," his wife keeps saying, speaking every insecure thought he has about her and their relationship over the sound of their baby crying. "Being with you is the worst decision I've ever made. You've ruined my life. You'll ruin our son's life."

"L, don't say that," Dean nearly sobs, her words crushing him.

"I wish I never fell in love with you," she seriously tells him, her body on the ceiling directly above him. "I wish I never  _met_  you."

And the fire starts.

Bursting forth from behind her, the ceiling is engulfed in seconds, her body disappearing in the flames.

"Lizzy! NO!"

Just then Dean sits up with a start, inhaling deeply as his body feels the panic of everything.

"Dean!" Lizzy calls to him and he can feel her hands immediately coming to cup his face. "Dean! Baby, it's ok!"

When he can focus he's greeted by her chestnut brown eyes as she's kneeling on the grass of the neighbor's lawn at his side. She's looking quite concerned yet very relieved at the same time.

"L… shit," he huffs out, catching his breath from the adrenaline rush. He grabs onto her wrists and makes sure she's really there, that this is real. The alarm starts to subside a bit with her being right there and no longer burning up on the ceiling of their bedroom. Sighing heavily with sheer relief, he leans forward with eyes closed and presses his forehead to hers.

"You ok, man?" Sam asks from the other side of him as he pulls a long needled syringe from Dean's arm.

"I am now," he quietly answers, really speaking to Lizzy.

"You were pretty deep under," Sam huffs quickly. "Took two shots to get you back."

"Because I got the double dose," Dean tells him, letting go of Lizzy to drop onto his back on the grass again and take another deep breath. "Fuck… that sucked."

"Really bad trip?" Lizzy questions, knowing it had to have been rough.

"The worst," he tells her, washing a hand down his face before looking up at her. He sees the bruising on her left jawline. "The hell happened to you!?"

"Djinn fight," Lizzy explains with a smirk. "I showed up just in time to swoop in and save the damsel over here." She jerks her thumb at Sam on the other side of Dean.

"Hey, I was handling it well enough without you," Sam denies immediately.

"Yep, that's why when I walked in I saw that two of them had you cornered and you had that panicked look in your eyes," Lizzy calls him out instantly with a cocked eyebrow as she stands up.

"I would have been fine," Sam excuses quickly as he looks down to Dean, trying to convince him.

"Ah, don't feel so bad, Sammy," Dean tries to heal his brother's ego a bit as Lizzy pulls his arm up to stand. "Wouldn't be the first time she's saved either of our asses."

Lizzy grins with pride over this. She's kept herself in shape, in peak fighting form, and it just paid off beautifully. Sam had gotten cornered in their living room. He had only a golf club to defend himself against two djinn with supercharged poison heading straight for him. Lizzy quickly took action, stabbing one with a lamb's blood coated knife she got from Samuel's crew right in the back and killing it quickly. That's when she was hit by the other, his balled fist landing hard and making her fall back. She tripped on the now dead djinn's body and fell to the floor. When the second one came at her she kicked it hard in the stomach. It fell back and Sam quickly stepped in behind him, locking him in and holding him still. Lizzy jumped to her feet, pulled the knife from the dead djinn, and stabbed the other one in the heart quickly.

And Samuel had caught the whole thing.

After witnessing the fight he told the two of them to get out of the apartment, that he would handle the last one. So they left to find Dean.

And now they walk together back to Dean and Lizzy's apartment just in time to see Samuel and Christian slamming the back doors of their van shut as it's parked out front.

"Hey," Sam calls to them to get their attentions. When Samuel sees the group he makes his way over. "You ok there, Dean?" he quickly asks.

"Been a hell of a lot better, but I'm alive," he answers back with some bitter undertones. "You off already?"

"Yeah, we have a long drive ahead of us," Samuel explains. "And as nice as your place is it doesn't quite seem big enough for all of us."

"You just saved our asses," Lizzy says to him kindly, having come around a bit with the old man. "You can stay if you'd like. We can make it work."

"That's very sweet of you but no thanks," Samuel says to her. "Plus, I don't think Marky's quite housebroken yet."

"Watch it, gramps!" Mark yells to Samuel as he jumps into the van.

"I hope you don't mind but we're taking the bodies," Samuel continues to tell them. "Figured a salt and burn in suburbia would look quite suspicious."

"That it would," Dean nods in agreement and shakes Samuel's hand. "Thanks for doing that."

"Not a problem. And I hope I see you soon, Dean," he say before turning to Lizzy. "And you too, young lady."

"Not too soon, I hope," Lizzy jokes but really means it as she hugs him. "But I would love to hear more about the family from you someday."

"You just asked an old man to tell you stories… that's dangerous," he warns while backing away from her. "You're a hell of a fighter, Lizzy. You shouldn't let that go to waste."

"Oh I don't," she promises. "I kick Dean's ass about once a week when he gets outta line."

"That'a girl," Samuel smiles at her. He then turns to Sam. "See you back at base?"

"As always," Sam answers and Samuel gets into the passenger side of the van. They drive off.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I need a fucking drink," Lizzy declares and marches right into her apartment.

* * *

"It's ok, puppy," Lizzy tries to assure her dog as he comes flying out of the open door to her, smelling her and licking her face with jittery fear. They locked him in the bathroom once they knew monsters were coming. It wasn't ideal but it was as safe as they could get. The poor thing clearly was freaked to high hell with all the commotion. "Cassie, it's alright now. The bad guys are gone. We're ok."

When Dean makes his way up the stairs Cass starts to fuss with him too, licking his hand and running about him with clear fear. His night has not been a good one.

"Cass, come on," Dean says kindly to the dog, not willing to raise his voice even a little after the commotion the dog has seen in the past twelve hours. He grabs a handful of dog treats from a canister on the counter where they always keep them and takes a seat on the floor.

By the time Sam comes upstairs he finds Dean and Lizzy both on the kitchen floor, Dean hand feeding their very freaked out pet as Lizzy watches on and scratches behind Cass' ears when he comes to her.

"Damn, it's like you're a normal couple or something," Sam huffs a laugh from the doorway.

"Could fool anyone at this point," Lizzy sighs before sadly adding. "Even myself."

Dean just glances at her quickly, unsure of what he could say to that, before turning to Sam.

"Let me get you what you need," Dean offers and stands up quickly from the floor, ready to get Sam blankets and anything else he might need for the night.

"No, uh, thanks," Sam refuses politely. "I'm meeting the family back at their place."

"You're not gonna get some sleep first?" Lizzy asks, still on the floor with Cass. "Stick around and, I don't know, reacquaint yourself with your family?"

Sam smiles and for some reason Lizzy doesn't buy it as genuine. "There's a lot of bad shit going on out there and someone has to clean it up."

Lizzy nods sadly, not ready to let him go just yet. She just found out he's on two legs again. She wants him to stay, to be safe for a day and have her brother around again.

"You, uh, you guys aren't coming with me?" Sam asks in a last ditch effort.

"No," Dean answers first. "We're not."

Sam sighs with sheer frustration. "Look, I know I practically shoved you both at this normal life…"

"That's a funny way to put it, but all right," Dean answers, face wrinkled with confusion as to where Sam's going with this.

"I'm just saying, I really wanted this whole thing for you," Sam continues. "And when I told you to go, I thought... you could have it, you know? But now I'm not so sure. I mean, you got to consider the fact that the world could use your help."

"Can't it always?" Dean challenges, knowing it'll never be quiet and safe out there.

"I hear you," Sam nods, understanding. "I guess I just wish you guys were coming, that's all."

"Why?" Lizzy wonders.

"Don't be stupid."

"No, it's a good question," Dean adds in. "I mean, you know plenty of good hunters. Even if L's not, I'm rusty. I did something seriously stupid going out there after Alona. I almost got us both killed."

"And that's exactly why I want you on board again." Sam says it very seriously, meaning it completely. "You just went. You didn't hesitate because you care, and that's who you are. Me? I wouldn't even think to try.

"Yes, you would've," Dean rebuts, knowing Sam always runs head first at danger to help anyone.

"No. I wouldn't," Sam confirms for him. "I'm telling you, it's just better with you around. And Lizzy too. She's still kicking ass like a champ. That's all."

They both become quiet with the complimentary words.

"I should hit the road," Sam says as he heads for the stairs.

"Hey!" Lizzy angrily shouts to him and makes him stop. Sam turns to look at her with confusion. She looks mad. "That's it!?"

"Um, yes?" he responds as if it were still a question.

"Fuck you, asshole!" she nearly shouts at him. "You waltz your hunting ass in here after a year, fight off a couple djinn, then ditch us like an ugly prom date!? Are you fucking kidding me!?"

"Lizzy, what's your problem?" Sam asks, his half smile still there with his bewilderment. "I told you why I stayed away…"

"But you're here now!" she returns. "So be here for a second, be with us and fill me in. You've had a whole year that we know nothing about. You can't just leave this fast."

"And if it weren't a three ring monster circus out there I would," Sam explains. "You want the full catch up then get in the car and come with me. Other than that… I gotta leave."

Looking about ready to cry, Lizzy realizes she can't win this one. She always wins with Sam, always… but not this time. She can't talk him into it.

"Then you have to say goodbye, you idiot." She crosses her arms with awkward discomfort that he would leave without doing so. She bites her inner cheek to stop from full blow crying right now. "You can't leave without saying goodbye and promising to come back soon."

"Fair enough," Sam says to her.

"And you have to call," she demands, pointing at him accusingly. "You have to call and let me know you're alive! Once a week!"

"Fine!" Sam promises back, raising his right hand. "Once a week." Or whatever it'll take to get him out of there. He has work to get to.

Lizzy walks to him quickly and wraps her arms tightly around his waist, just like always.

"You're a dickhead," she says up to him, her voice shaky.

"Yeah, yeah," he says, backing away.

"Be safe, huh?" Lizzy says her parting words, a hand to his cheek.

"You got it."

"Alright, I'll walk you out," Dean says to him. "C'mon Cass!"

Dean leashes the dog and walks out to the car with Sam. When he spies the all black Charger SRT8 he laughs.

"That's what you're driving these days?"

"It's a good car," Sam defends.

"Yeah if you like cheap, characterless plastic," Dean starts, grabbing the keys to the Impala out of his jacket and holding them out to Sam. "She should be hunting. Take her."

Sam smirks a little. "Thanks, really, but I already got my car set up how I like it."

"Alright," Dean nods, noticing quickly how Cass won't stand on the same side of him as Sam is. The dog stays far away when possible. He has this whole time. "Keep in touch, you hear?"

"'Course," Sam answers while walking to his car. He turns to look at Dean. "It was really good to see you again, Dean."

Dean just nods with the odd parting words and watches Sam drive off. Once he's gone it feels like he was never there, like it was some surreal dream. Dean has to wonder if it all actually just happened at all….

…. But then he gets a look at his apartment once he gets back inside and realizes that yes, the whole ordeal did actually just happen. His place is a wreck.

Finding Lizzy standing in the middle of the destroyed living room looking just completely exhausted and at a loss, his heart gets that much heavier.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Dean tries to excuse, knowing it's a total lie.

"Well that's a total lie," Lizzy tells him, reading his mind. "But it was nice of you to try and make it seem better." She sighs hard, her arms hanging by her sides while at a complete loss. "This is such a mess that I don't even know where to start."

"Then don't start," Dean tells her with his need to make this better for her in any way possible. "You're tired and you took at least one solid punch today… just go to bed. I'll start cleaning this up and we can finish everything else tomorrow."

Usually Lizzy declines an offer like this, being the tough and stubborn woman that she is, but Dean's concern just grows that much more when she nods and quietly says, "Yeah, ok."

Lizzy rubs at her face, the frustration just too high for her to even deal with. She gives up completely. She begins to walk out the door while asking him to, "Make sure any broken glass is picked up before you crash. I don't want Cass cutting up his paws."

"Sure," Dean agrees easily, thinking it was a good idea anyways.

Lizzy unexpectedly pauses in the doorway before leaving. She turns her head just slightly, not really looking at him but peering at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Our old life is the one that's gonna survive this," she points out in a depressed, so sad tone. "I can feel it." And she walks across the hall and into their bedroom, the room that has been luckily untouched by the struggle with the djinn, and disappears for the night.

Once alone, Dean scans the living room and he sighs. His place is destroyed, his future for now has been destroyed, his wife's hopes have been destroyed… hell, his faith in family has been destroyed.

How could Sam do this? How!? He's been up and running for a year, a whole freakin' year, and he never contacted them. That's not the Sam he knows. His Sammy would have done everything he could to contact him, find his brother the second he was upright. He wouldn't hide himself from Dean. Family has always been a-number-1, set in stone, most important thing they had. Really, they've never had anything more than that. It's always been Dean and Sammy versus the world…

Until now. Sam's on his own and if he's being honest it hurt to know. It hurt to think Sam could so easily thrive out there without him. And sure, his brother nearly begged him to come back but he didn't  _need_  Dean anymore. If he's not mistaken, Sam didn't need anything from anyone anymore. He seems to be pretty well off on his own.

He doesn't know how to feel about all this. He needs to process through it all first.

After grabbing a dustpan and brush from the kitchen, Dean starts with the broken glass like he promised he would. A jar candle and her bottle of Jameson litter the hardwood in sharp shards. By the wall with all the family photos is much worse. By the looks of it Dean assumes someone was thrown into it, breaking several of the glass plates within the frames. The one frame that Lizzy hung for him in the middle of them all, Dean's most coveted one at that, is no longer there. He looks to the ground and finds it face down. Picking it up, the whole day gets just that much worse when he sees how destroyed the restored copy of the one picture he has of his mother and him is. Lizzy went to all that work to do that for him and in a second, in one fight with evil, it's ruined… just like his mother's own life. The irony is disgusting.

The fury of the day hits him hard with this final straw. His brother is alive, his grandfather is too, hunting just took a dump on his front doorstep, and the goal of his and Lizzy's life that they have been working so hard to achieve is completely shattered, much like the frame in his hand.

Unable to hack it all, in a fit a rage Dean throws the frame into the opposite wall with every ounce of strength he has left. It breaks into pieces for good and makes a further mess of the living room… as if anyone would notice at this point.

He then drops heavily onto the couch, head in his hands, and takes a few deep breaths. The walls are closing in on him it feels like and nothing is how it is supposed to be. He was finally finding something resembling happiness...

But God fucking forbid he be happy, right? He must not have earned that through everything he's done in his life, not yet at least.

* * *

Waking up Monday morning, shocked that he was able to find any sleep at all, Dean just lays there on his back, looking up to the ceiling and wondering what to do now.

It's a work day. He was expected at the garage at quarter of ten and looking at the clock he sees he has about three hours before that happens. Enough time to finish cleaning up whatever he gave up on the night before.

He planned to call in late and go play a round with Jim but he's not really in the golfing mood. He needs to bury his head full of horrible thoughts under some car hoods and let everything work its way through his mind.

Peering over at his wife he can read her body even in sleep and he already knows it isn't good. She's on her side facing away from him and curled up tightly in a ball. She told him once this is how she slept every night once he was down in hell while clutching to his leather jacket. She's heartbroken once more, much like those four months, and she's just as lost as back then.

He wants to make it better, maybe just take her, pack up the car and run. Where to he has no clue since he's sure that Sam or evil will just follow them, but at least they could have more time… more time before Sam comes knocking on their door one day with something so big that he can't say no to heading out to help him.

But he wants a home. He wants his family. He wants Sam to get out and live next door. He wants his kids to have an uncle around that wants to be a part of their lives. He wants quiet, happy. He wants Lizzy.

But he wants to help Sam if he can.

He's completely fucked up.

The one thing he can do right now is get through his day like any other. He can clean up the apartment, kiss Lizzy goodbye, go to work, come home and make dinner, and spend time with his wife when she finishes her bar shift tonight. After yesterday, that all sounds pretty damn good.

Moving over in bed, coming right up behind Lizzy and leaving no space between them, he brushes her hair off her neck before kissing her once.

"I'm up," Lizzy flatly answers, having been awake for a while now. Sleep wasn't exactly coming easy to her after the day they had.

"How you doing?" Dean asks sweetly, keeping his tone kind and quiet.

She doesn't answer.

"L, talk to me."

"It's not him," Lizzy states very quickly, blurting out the one thought she's had rambling through her skull since Sam left.

"What?"

"It's not him. Whatever showed up here yesterday wasn't Sam," she tells him, sure of it after a night of serious contemplation.

Dean pauses where he is before falling onto his back on his own side with a sigh.

"I know you don't believe me," Lizzy says to him, sure that he doesn't, and rolls to her other side to actually look at him.

Dean turns his head, making eye contact with her for the first time since she went to bed before him.

"I don't think you're totally wrong, though," Dean truthfully tells her.

" _Really_?" Lizzy asks with wide eyes as she props her elbow onto the pillow and lifts her head.

"Yeah, well kinda," Dean says, it hurting to admit, running a soft fingertip across the bruise on her chin. "I don't think he's  _not_  our Sam but he isn't the same Sam as he was before."

With a confused look, Lizzy grabs for Dean's hand and clutches it in hers.

"Look, I know he wasn't down there long but it's not about how long that matters," he tries to explain while looking at their interlocked hands. "What matters is that he was there at all. Hell changes a person and maybe… this is what it did to Sam."

"You really think that could be it?"

"I  _know_  that could be it," Dean tells her with certainty, looking back at her.

She can see that pain that he usually hides so well on a day to day basis right out in the open. Considering how far he's come since returning from his tour of duty she sometimes forgets he was ever even there. He's been able to open up again, able to smile and actually mean it, and able to live his life even while knowing what he'd done those last ten years. She worried horribly for a long time that he'd never be able to overcome that. Granted, that guilt isn't gone at all because Dean grips onto guilt with a clutch of death but he manages it well enough.

Now Lizzy wonders if she's going to have two people in that same boat in her life. That is if Sam's willing to have her in his life. She's guessing that he feels indifferent to the idea as of now.

"So what do we do about him?" Lizzy wonders, needing to set forth a course of action. "Because whatever's happening right now isn't good."

"I don't know yet," Dean tells her honestly, holding tightly to her hand. "He wouldn't talk about it…"

"Neither would you for a long time," Lizzy points out. "Actually, you've only ever really opened up about it all to Sam and it took you a long time to get there."

"That's true," he says as he thinks it over, looking at her with narrowed eyes. "I never did tell you anything, did I?"

"No," Lizzy confirms, taking her hand out of his grip and pressing it to his chest. "And you don't have to if you don't want to. Laraje told me enough to give the big picture of what you've done. You never have to tell me any details if you don't want to."

"Yeah…." Dean trails off, clearly contemplating getting it out but immediately thinking better of it. "I know you wouldn't think of me the same way if you knew, and I mean  _really_ knew." He peers at the ceiling to avoid her. "I'm surprised Sam didn't after I told him."

"Don't underestimate the people that love you, Dean," she reminds him warmly. "There's a reason we love you. We know who you really are… and it's definitely not the thing hell turned you into." She brings her hand to his cheek and pulls him to face her. With his eyes locked onto hers, the color bright green and not the black that hell tried to make them, he sees her honesty.

"So you know that I'm just an ass-load of mental issues that feels guilty all the time and drinks for the record in order to handle it?"

"I know that you have those issues because of how much you care," Lizzy turns it right around. "The reason you have guilt and shame and drink so much is because you're good at the base of it all. So good that you could withstand all that pain and fury to come back to me and be the person you are right now."

"You know, I really dread the day you stop looking at me through those rose colored glasses and you see the real me," Dean sadly confesses. He does fear that day. This whole sunny-side outlook she takes with him is not going to last forever. It can't. And there's no way he can match her when it comes to being a good person. She deserves someone who hasn't done the things he's done in his life.

"You are the most frustrating mother fucker I have ever met in my life, you know that?" she asks him, her voice annoyed as she curls up into his side with an arm across his chest. "I feel like we're gonna spend our lives like this, me battling to get you to see the person I see in you and you fighting me the entire way."

"Probably," Dean easily concedes.

"And maybe that's where Sam's at right now?" Lizzy tries to rationalize and figure this whole mystery out. "Maybe he's just not himself yet but he's trying to be. When you came back you were insane. You had to help everyone and you were willing to die recklessly to do it, to make up for what you'd done."

He sure was. He remembers that all too well.

"Sam might be still guilty about how he let Lucifer free and he's hunting like a mad man to make up for it."

Having been there before, Dean can certainly understand. "Might be it," he nods.

"I  _hope_  that's it," she says to him, still having an empty and eerie feeling about him. "So now what do we do?"

It's a much more loaded question than it seems.

"Um, go to work," Dean suggests. "Clean up the rest of the living room. Live normal. Meet you back here for dinner tonight and try to figure out what the hell Sam being back and the world going to shit means."

"Dinner and research," Lizzy somewhat sadly says. "Goodie. It's like our old date nights."

She moves to get out of bed but is stopped when Dean pulls her back with an arm around her waist. He brings her into him, her back flush against his front, and stops her.

"This isn't permanent," he reminds her, both arms locking her there and making sure she'll listen. "I won't let it be permanent. We'll figure this out and then get back to normal."

"So normal is the quiet life for you now?" Lizzy challenges over her shoulder.

"Sure is," Dean tells her, dropping a kiss on her neck.

"Dean, I'm fucking scared here," Lizzy admits finally, letting the truth come out. "I just… I can't help but think that this is over. It feels over. And I know… that now that you know Sam's out there you want to head out too."

"No I don't."

"A little part of you does," Lizzy tells him with certainty. "And I don't want to stop you from doing that if that's where you want to be but I can't afford to lose this. I can't handle this all disappearing. I can't…."

"Hey," Dean stops her when he can hear the waterworks forming in the back of her voice. "I'm not leaving here. I'm not going anywhere."

"But if you want to…"

"I don't," he promises to her. More than anything he wants everything he has right now.

Lizzy nods, hesitantly taking his answer as the truth though a little part of her knows it isn't completely honest of him.

"I want you," Dean tells her, kissing her neck again. "I want to live here." A kiss to her collarbone. "I want what we're been trying for." He kisses her shoulder before she rolls onto her back to look at him. "More than being on the road again… I want us."

Lizzy lets a smile creep across her face with this. She believes him this time. It's the sincerity in his voice that gets her.

"I want this life more than anything," Lizzy tells him from the bottom of her heart.

Dean grins at her right back before leaning down onto her, covering her completely with himself. He kisses her thankfully, just happy to know they're actually on the same page in life still, even with the huge changes in it. They're going to be fine. Just fine.

"You know what else I want?" Dean asks through a smile with his lips still pressed to hers.

With a slick look, Lizzy reaches lower and wraps her fingers around his hardness with wink. "I have a pretty good idea."

So before cleaning up their home, going to work, and trying to figure out how to keep their quaint and happy future on track, they enjoy their morning and take advantage of the fact that no matter what happens they will be together. Not a damn thing could rip this life they've made together apart.

Or so they thought….

* * *

 

_**THE END** _

 

**Author's Note:**

> Always feel free to comment if you'd like. Good or bad, I will always respond happily!


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